


The Dark Flavor Of Addiction

by Lotornomiko



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Cannon Divergence, Cheating, Eventual Romance, F/M, Jealousy, Possessive Behavior, Relationship complications abound, Smut, dark urges & feelings, realizing your first choice was the wrong person
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-07 04:06:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 73,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4248672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lotornomiko/pseuds/Lotornomiko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brand spanking new summary! 3B cannon divergence with a heavy focus on a secret sexual relationship between Hook and Belle. Both devoted and swearing to love others, Hook and Belle both can't deny the irresistible passion and attraction they have for one another, leading to repeated secret trysts, hurt feelings, and a whole lot of jealousy. But what happens when feelings unravel completely,& secrets come out?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

Standard Disclaimer Time. I do not own Once Upon A time, or the characters here in. No do I make any money off of this story. It is done purely for entertainment purposes.  
\---Michelle 

 

They say grief can lead you to do some crazy, terrible things. That it can make you turn against your friends and your family, make you hurt them, make you hurt yourself. I have had first hand experience with such destructive emotion, both as the one experiencing it, and as the one to feel the direct backlash of another’s grief. I've been threatened, chased, actually been struck, looked my death right in the eyes and it's still nothing close to what I can blame my own actions on. Because it's not grief that I am feeling, and it's not love either. It's something else, something that's gone all twisted in my head, and it's so wrong that it feels right, the fit and feel of him against me making me crazed. I'm half out of my mind with him, with the things he's making me feel, the lust and the sensations, the pleasurable grind of his leather against the thin lace of my panties as I hang trapped between him and the wall. 

The wall at my back, and the pirate pressing me into it, can't stop the sensation I have of falling. I've lost touch with the only grounding force I've ever known, caught in an endless free fall that has my thighs squeezing in tighter around him, my fingers clutching at his back. But I can't stop my descent into this downward spiral. I don't even truly make the attempt to try. I like what I'm feeling, even as it leaves me ashamed, and I hate myself for being so weak and so quick to give in, and yet I wouldn't trade this moment for all of the world. 

Because the world can't give me what he makes me feel, this lust that is mad beyond all reason, and the pleasure that goes hand in hand in it's wake. Even as I know regret and shame will color me once I am the slightest bit rational, I keep coming back for more. Maybe I always will. For the sexual thrill of being with a man who'd just as soon as see me dead, for the danger of him, for the threat to my happiness that he represents, and even for the fear of what it would mean should this tryst ever be discovered. Hook's not the only danger in my life, and though I've sworn up and down that Rumple would never hurt me, a part of me fears it for the lie that it might just be. 

Even that one niggling worry, that fear of the uncertain, cannot put a damper on the excitement coursing through me. He doesn't even have to touch me for I've already melted from just one look into those dark blue eyes. Hook has a way of looking at a woman, a blatant predatory hunger in his gaze, the blue gleaming with every filthy thought and impure desire he has ever had for her. And it's all been focused on me for the last ten minutes, his mask of indifference discarded the instant the Charmings and their daughter had walked out of the shop. 

The Charmings would have never left Hook here with me if they had had the slightest inkling of what would happened. But both he and I have played our parts to perfection, our mutual dislike giving no reason for anyone to suspect otherwise. I'm nothing more than his one time victim, a job he's been tasked with to make things rights. Just another hoop for him to jump through in the vain hope he will prove worthy of their daughter, Emma Swan. I think of her now, and my kiss becomes vicious, an emotion that I have no right to coloring my mood. Jealousy should have no designs on what this is, and yet I WANT to keep him. If only to keep on feeling this way, this odd mix of sexual thrill and danger a drug like no other. 

HE’S the one that is like no other, unique in the danger, in the way that he makes me feel. No other man has looked at me in the way that Hook has, like he both wants to kill me and fuck me at the same time. He doesn't look at me like an object to be cherished, and Hook's not afraid of the repercussions of getting his hands dirty. He might even welcome Rumple killing him for this, might actively laugh in his face, and I know something is twisted inside of him, the nursed grief of three hundred years making Hook this way. It's a recipe for disaster that has been boiling for just short of forever, bubbling over from the first instant I had laid eyes on the pirate back in the Queen's tower. 

Even then I had been attracted to him, having spied that dangerous gleam in his eyes that I hadn't yet been capable of understanding his reason for. I had been his for the taking, then, now, and all the times in between. Each time has been better than the last, each time all wild and frantic energy, and each time I've made a liar out of myself by swearing it would be the last. Even now I know I won't be able to stay away from him, and that he won't be able to resist me when I come calling. He's as helpless to this feeling as I am, to the pleasure he gets out of using me, to the knowledge that he is getting over on Rumplestiltskin every time Hook sinks his cock into my body. 

Just thinking about that moment makes things deep inside me twist, my passage tightening in anticipation for what it wants to receive. My breathing already ragged, harshens further, my voice distorted to something that isn't me. 

"Stop teasing me." I say in an odd mix of beg and demand. 

A low masculine chuckle rasps out of him, Hook lifting up from where his lips has been roughly mouthing my throat, to stare into my eyes. What he sees there makes him smile, Hook approving of the damn near desperate gleam in them. 

"We've got time." He says to me, and I manage to shake my head no. I can feel some of the wavy curls of my hair brushing the tops of my shoulders, but most of it remains trapped between my back and the wall. With the wall’s help, Hook supports me effortlessly, as though my weight is a burden he can gladly shoulder all day. Even when I start to wiggle and squirm, a half hearted protest issuing pass my lips in response to what he now says. "We've got all the time in the world." 

"That's not true." I say. "The Charmings..." 

"Won't be back for a while. Too busy hunting that witch." 

That witch he mentions, is an all but unknown factor, neither her reasons nor her identity revealed to us. It was that witch who was the reason why the Charmings had left Hook here alone with me. There was a very real chance of her danger, the fact that the witch might possibly be hunting me. It was that possible threat that had led the Charming family to feel certain that I was in need of some sort of real protection. Just what they thought the pirate could do against magic, I'll never know, but then I can't deny the perks of having Hook here with me. 

One perk in particular is pressed between my thighs, the sensation it grinds into me making it difficult to truly focus on anything else. My thoughts begin to scatter, my own hips moving with a purpose, as I start a slow, needy dance that can't quite possibly satisfy me the way that I need. 

"Please." I am whimpering over and over, giving tiny moist kisses up and down the length of his jaw. I'm not expecting that laugh, but the pure masculine satisfaction sends a shot of liquid heat straight through me. 

"Quite a change from the woman who claimed to not want to be left alone with me." I hear Hook say. "But then there is something to be said about a lady who protests too much." I keep on nibbling my lips into his skin, the scratch of the scruff there a sensation I don't mind. "What would they say, what would they think, to see you like this now?" 

"I don't care about that, about them." I say, breathing in and growing more intoxicated by his scent. 

"And yet you want me to hurry." He points out, and I do a slow shrug. I breathe his name into his ear, bite down and pull on the lobe of it, feeling Hook shudder against me in response. 

"Hurry." I say. "Before someone comes. Before they..." 

"Before they see?" He interrupts, and gives a sharp grin. I don't bother to correct him, merely moaning helplessly as he touches foreheads to mine, and focus that hungry, glittering stare into my eyes. "A fine idea." 

The shock of his words can't jolt me out of my desire, even as I start in place, again trying to squirm free. "No." I say, but it is half hearted at best. "You--we can't. The Charmings, the witch, even Rumplestiltskin might...." 

"Better and better." Hook grins in a cold manner. A thrill goes through me as the danger that I've never forgotten that Hook represents, that the pirate puts me in, shows clearly in his eyes. I should be screaming, should be shoving him away, instead I am melting, turning to a puddle before him at the thought of Rumplestiltskin catching us. I don't really want to be caught, but the chance of it? Just the idea excites me, in a way its reality wouldn't, the danger the ultimate in aphrodisiacs, and Hook's tipping it over, giving me a direct hit to my veins that has me moaning, writhing against him as the pirate tears off the flimsy scrap of lace that passes for my panties. 

I don't know how or when Hook got his pants open, but he's thrusting inside me, the invasion hard and sudden and just how I had wanted him. I immediately tighten around him, my body convulsing, and Hook's cursing, holding himself still inside me as I climax all around him. My legs that had been dangling, now lock behind him, my fingertips digging into his back as I pant and sob and scream his name. But it's not over, not by a long shot, the pirate actually shaking, weathering through the worst of my climax before he begins to move. 

It's too soon, my toes curling. I gasp and cry out, every inch of him moving inside me, sending waves of further pleasure spiraling through me. I'm wetter than I've ever been, soaked from the inside out, and he's wringing out every last drop of pleasure my body can give, Hook relentless and pounding, his lips buried in the crook of my shoulder. Faintly I hear him, the pirate muttering things, dark, delicious imagery filling my head with the words that Hook speaks. I so badly want this, so desperately want him, and it's not enough to have him inside me, I need to feel the hot gush of his warmth spilling inside me. 

It is crazy, we are both insane, having taken more than enough risks without going any further. But just as Hook pushes the boundaries, so do I, wanting, needing to feel him come inside me. My legs locked so firmly around him, don't give an inch when he tries to pull back. I can hear him cursing, warning me of the repercussions of such foolishness but I don't care. And then the sound of someone trying to open the pawn shop's front door, jars me back to reality. Suddenly I can't get away fast enough, limp legs letting go, hands pushing at Hook to get him away from me. He looks me in the eyes, and this time I go completely cold, seeing that devilish gleam, and that equally merciless smile. I'm his to do with as completely as he wants, and it seems the pirate cares more about his revenge than the repercussions, pumping furiously in me, his seed erupting forth the instant the front door opens completely. 

I moan a helpless no, even as my own body betrays me, coming just as hard, just as fast as before. I'm lost, loving and hating this, hating him, and there's the sound of something---someone falling, and neither one of us is looking, too busy riding this out to it's bitter sweet end. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

To Be Continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So..*twiddles thumbs* Okay this is....okay I haven't written anything to completion since the end of AUGUST. I have been going crazy with my inability to write...Lord knows I've tried. So this is part of a writing exercise to get me back into writing. I do intend to continue this, though I am hoping now that I got this out of my system I could hopefully work on one of my other existing fics.. 
> 
> Basically, this is an idea I thought of like two or three weeks ago. Though I couldn't figure out how to start it. I think I've been experiencing fic burn out...like major fic burnt out. Tonight while watching the Belle Anna episode, the opening lines came to me, and wham! What you just read is the end result. 
> 
> Side note, not completely related to said fic...at least not yet. I have been dying to write something with Hook and handcuffs all week! XD 
> 
> Oh, so this season three based. The idea came to me when I was thinking about how my other season three one shot, about a review I got. The reviewer had wished for the smutless fluff that didn't happen in that other oneshot...but unfortunately I still didn't end up with fluff or lack of smut in this one either. But I am happy, even if it's a little dark. 
> 
> \----Michelle


	2. Two

The sounds of my no is an endless chorus of helpless moans, my breath coming almost too fast, and I can't stop either, can't even try, my horror mixing with my climax, blurring the lines between both. I hang suspended at Hook's whim, effectively trapped between him and the wall, my body trembling, all a quiver and shaking. That shaking is magnified when the pirate shifts inside me, a sharp after shock of pleasure spiking through me. My hands that should be pushing him away instead dig their fingers into him, clinging to him for one second longer. And then I'm crying, shoving at him, actively trying to force him away. I'm completely panicking, my mind going to worst case scenarios, and knowing no amount of damage control can fix this. 

Through it all he stares at me, reeking of satisfaction. His expression is feral, with a growing darkness in his eyes, and Hook is clearly relishing my panic. I shove harder at him in retaliation, and slowly he steps back. I'm immediately left feeling empty, the remnants of his climax spilling down the inside of my thighs. A wave of pure revulsion churns through me, my panic and the fact that I had wanted this, now sickening me in the following moments after. 

I can't even speak, can't even stand, my legs shaking so badly that Hook has a rare moment of concern for me. He put his hand on my hip to steady me, and I bite back a scream, shoving away from him and taking a trembling step to the front of the shop. Hook's a shadow behind me, not saying a word, and he actually catches me in his arms, when my panic gives way to shock. 

"Neal!" 

Rumplestiltskin's adult son lay unconscious on the floor of the pawn shop. I don't understand the cause for his fall, nor do I know where he's been all this time. But two thoughts are chief in my head, how much had he heard, how much might he have seen? I am immediately ashamed by these concerns, knowing my first priority should be towards checking on Neal. 

To that end, I struggle free of Hook's arms, stumbling towards the unconscious man on the floor. My legs shake every step of the way, until I'm falling for real, my knees slamming hard against the tile of the pawn shop's floor. I wince, but my cries are all for Neal, my hands reaching for him, trying to jostle him awake. But neither the shaking, nor my sharp voiced urgency can rouse him, and as I turn Neal over, I spy a still bleeding cut over his eye. 

I'm still in shock, the questions I should be asking, the things I should be doing, not coming easy to me. I roll Neal over onto his back, and then I am scrambling off the floor, lurching to the back room where my purse should still be. I pass by Hook who wears a hard expression, the pirate staring not at me, but at the man on the floor. He's not at all pleased to see Neal, and for once this has nothing to do with his attempts at revenge. Hook's surely thinking of Emma, of the woman he and Neal both share an affection for. Things inside me twist, that jealous emotion I have no right to, again coloring my mood. 

Practically green with it, I find and open my purse. My fingers close around the tiny phone, and then I am dialing the numbers, trying to control myself, my emotions, my voice. There's too much panic in me, more than is appropriate for the situation. If the emergency operator notices, they do not comment on the oddity of just how upset I sound. Harder yet is the next calls I make, contacting the Charmings, and trying to locate their daughter. Emma's phone goes straight to voice mail, and I do not try to call her a second time. I'm too busy cleaning myself up, trying to wipe away any sign of what Hook and I had been doing. 

I catch him watching me as I do this, but for once he's not acting smug. He's still too preoccupied with worry over Neal, with what that man's reappearance will mean for the pirate's chance with Emma. A pettiness I would have once claimed was no part of me, hopes that Neal ruins things. I'm not thinking in terms of which man deserves Emma more, but in darker terms, wanting Hook and having no intention to share him. This darker me is someone I don't completely recognize, nor am I comfortable with being this jealous and possessive. And yet it's a side of me that's been awakened, and it’s a side of me that isn't going to go away easily. My fingers pick up and crush the lace panties Hook had torn off my body just minutes earlier, the garment completely ruined for any further wearing. I can only be glad my skirt is tight enough and long enough, that I won't run the risk of flashing anyone. 

The sound of the ambulance sirens drawing nearer have me shoving the ruined panties into my purse. I'm at the door by the time the paramedics pull up, and it's a hectic few minutes as they work on Neal. He's not in immediate danger, his vitals strong and healthy. He still hasn't woken up, and I hear the paramedics speak of a possible concussion. I can faintly hear myself begging them to do what they have to, and then we're all in the ambulance, even Hook, and being driven to Storybrooke's lone hospital. 

At the hospital, I again try to call Emma. I have no better luck than before, and I toss my phone back into my purse in a moment of frustration. The medical staff fusses and works over Neal, and the man wakes up halfway through the exam. He's immediately asking for Emma, frantic for her, and just as confused as any of us are, about how he had ended up back in Storybrooke. I'm even more frantic, wanting to find out just what he remembers, just what he might have seen at the pawn shop. Rumplestiltskin is practically the last thing on my mind, my guilt and unease, my worry and fears consuming me, and it's all I can do to keep from darting glances at the pirate on a near constant basis. 

He's on the opposite side of Neal's hospital bed, tall, dark and brooding. Every time Neal asks something about Emma, a tic in Hook's cheek visibly twitches. The pirate is all but grinding his teeth, sometimes actively pacing. His fingers keep curling into a fist, and then uncurling, and Neal is too caught up in thoughts of Emma to even acknowledge the pirate's agitation. 

Just as I am about to call Emma's phone for the third time, I hear the sound of people rushing towards the room. I turn, and spy Emma and her father, then catch sight of Neal's face lighting up. More than that, I see Hook, his eyes angry, his lips flattened into a thin line. Anyone can see he's unhappy, but Emma isn't even looking at Hook, her eyes all for the man in the bed. She hurries to Neal's side, takes his hand in hers, and starts asking him questions. Hook and I both shift guiltily, relief in my heart when Neal speaks about how the last thing he can remember is watching Emma's yellow car cross over the town line. Rumplestiltskin's son has a gap in his memories, and it's not just the year that we all miss, but the months that follow everyone's return to Storybrooke. I don't know if it's magic at work, or the concussion, and either one might not be a permanent fix to what Neal might have seen back at the pawn shop. Hook and I are not out of danger just yet, Neal holding our fates, our reputations unknowingly in his hands. 

The worry is a knot in my stomach, my guilt making me constantly look at Hook. The pirate is not looking at me but at Emma, his gaze narrowing as she continues to hold Neal's hand. He looks practically murderous when Emma caresses the back of her fingers over the cut over Neal's eyes, but he says nothing, just curls his fingers into a fist at his side. I can't stomach it any longer, can't bear the guilt and the worry, but also the jealousy, his AND mine. I make some kind of excuse, some feeble attempt to leave the room. 

I go down to the hospital's cafeteria, and buy myself a cup of their too sweet tasting coffee. Save for the initial sip, I barely drink, just nursing the cup in my hands. I sit at a corner table, and I am lost to my thoughts, barely acknowledging when Doctor Whale walks by, the man put off by my complete lack of interest in his flirtatious come ons. But he's neither of the two men who can get me going, lacking Hook's danger and heat, and Rumplestiltskin's charm. I wonder which is the stronger, the lust I feel or the love that I have? But there are no easy answers, my attraction to Hook insane but powerful, tarnishing my love, making it all but impossible for me to do the right thing. For myself, and for Rumple, this lust an addiction that will destroy us. 

Not for the first time, do I try to firm up my resolve. Reminding myself of how this behavior with Hook is damaging, how I stand to ruin not only my life and my happiness but that of Rumplestiltskin's as well. I think on how I felt in that moment in the pawn shop, how stricken and panicked I had been. I tell myself I never want to feel that way again, and I mean it as I stand. I throw away my mostly full cup of coffee, and began the slow walk back to Neal's hospital room. I am telling myself all kinds of things, urging myself to be strong, willing myself to not be affected in the slightest when next I see Hook. I almost think I can do it, and then it all comes crashing down, fingers harshly closing around my upper arm. 

I barely have time to react, a startled sound escaping me as I am roughly pulled into a supply closet. The closed door shuts out all light, and I'm not sure what I am thinking, save to panic. I struggle and push at my assailant, my hands trying to fight them off, and then a mouth is roughly covering my own. Even before I feel the cold metal of his hook wedging between my skin and the hem of my skirt, I am melting, recognizing the pirate through his hard, unyielding passion. My arms go around him, his clean masculine scent filling my nostrils, and I am kissing him back, just as hard, just as wild. Faintly I am aware that I'm making a mockery of my resolve, and that I've learned nothing from the near miss with Neal. But I don't waste time to berate myself fully, too caught up and desperate for him, and not even the jealousy that I have experienced many times over this day, can stop me because Hook's not with her at the moment, and it's not Emma whose skirt he is impatiently pulling up. 

The skirt ends up rolled around my waist. It'll be badly wrinkled, and I don't even know how I will explain what has happened. I don't even care enough to truly worry, all thoughts of the skirt gone from my head, the instant Hook spins me around, and bends me over a cabinet. His fingers busy themselves on my flesh, the curve of his hook fitting over my throat. I try to hold myself still, but I am moaning, tiny whimpering little sounds, my hips wiggling, my body pushing back against his fingers. They are wicked as they stroke inside me, twisting and curving, working me over until I am wet and half sobbing, begging him for more, for something longer and thicker. 

He gives it to me, Hook sinking inside me from behind. From this angle, he hits deeper than before, a loud cry issuing out of me before I can stop it. Hook doesn't reprimand me, actually groans from deep within his chest. For what seems like an eternity, he just holds himself still, as though Hook is savoring the moment. A moment I ruin, squirming, trying to push back, my movements born of my restless need to feel Hook actually moving inside me. He makes a sound, actually bends over my back so that his chest brushed against it. By the time his lips are kissing behind my ear, Hook is moving, a rough and vigorous thrusting that has me clawing at the front of the cabinet. 

His hook still positioned around my throat, his wild hips begin a frantic, desperate rhythm. He's pressing more and more on me, his weight pinning me in place over the cabinet, and I love every second of his possession of me. I can't even truly move, can only do a slight squirming, his weight holding me down, and it's turning me on to be controlled this completely. Everything in the moment is his to command, the sex, my body, even the moment when I come. I just lay there, shaking, moaning, and just as I am about to hit the pinnacle of my climax, Hook's wild sounding whisper makes me go cold. Because it's not my name that he gives voice to, the name Emma a cold splash of water that shatters any illusions I might have entertained. I'm not the one he's thinking of in this moment, and I'm merely a pale substitute of the woman that holds a place in his heart. 

Something inside me breaks, and it's all I can do to hold back my scream. My body trembles with my suppressed rage, my heart sick with jealousy, and full of a burning need to make Hook pay. I feel used by him, in a way that his revenge hadn't been able to make me feel. I start to vow to myself that never again will I let him touch me, that never again will the pirate have his way with me, but that's not what I really want. I don't even have the words for what I do want from Hook, I'm simply too lost and confused, and torn up by the demon that is my lust for him. Even as I hate him, I move, squirming, writhing, trying to get back to that place inside me that doesn't care about anything but the pleasure he is giving. But it's not going to happen, my mind and my heart too heavy, and in the end I just lay there, enduring Hook's frantic thrusting. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To Be Continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So....okay I am scared ya'll are gonna kill me for him saying Emma's name at the end there! But it felt like the natural progression for the story at this point and time. I had a lot of hand holding over the Emma name thing from my friend Huntress. She encouraged me to do what I felt was right for the storyline. So please don't hunt me down and lynch me over it! *goes into hiding* 
> 
> But if you will all be patient with me, this IS a captain beauty story. It's just a bit dark and long road to get to it. I'm actually trying to play with themes of jealousy and obsession. When I was trying to think of a title (I now have a name for this story!) I actually considered The Dark Flavor of Obsession. Went with The Dark Flavor of Addiction. Fun fact, the title came to me when I was joking to my friend Zerousy about calling the fic either 50 shades of Hook, or 50 shades of obsession. 
> 
> \---Michelle


	3. Three

It's not often that I lose sight of myself like this. I'm a hard, driven man, used to control, generally unaffected by the chaos that happens around me. I'm the force that causes other people to react, affected by little, and holding even less use for emotions than most men. I've been that way for a long time now, the loss of my brother starting me up this incline, with the death of the one true love of my life completing my transformation. I'm driven, ruthless and merciless, the revenge that I seek, that I've sought for several hundred years, making me do all manner of things. Hurt a number of people, and led me to take countless risks. I've been foolish, I've been suicidal, and never have I been more desperate than I am now, my body frantically thrusting, cock pumping furiously as I strive for relief inside the body of the woman I am on top of. 

She writhes under me, that lush bottom pushing back against my penetrating thrusts forward, her entire body all a quiver, and I'm the reason she's making those desperate, needy and most of all infuriated sounds. It's a fair exchange, the immense pleasure that I feel inside her, making my own voice come out, and it's just as frantic, coming from deep within, and emerging as the harshest of sounds. My deep breaths punctuate each sound, my moaning utterances coming fast and furious, reaching a fever pitch that has me not caring if anyone else might hear. I know this is madness, that this is foolishness of the worst kind, and yet for this moment, this sweet instant of ecstasy, I'd gladly throw it all away. Her life and mine. 

With that thought I make a sound that's almost a snarl, my hips' movements becoming erratic. My cock works furiously to rid itself of every last drop of seed. I'm the one shuddering now, the orgasmic bliss rolling through me, as I sweep aside her hair, and place my lips to that tender sweet spot that I've discovered exists on the nape of a woman's neck. I murmur incoherent things as I taste the flesh there, and my nostrils flare, taking in the faint vanilla and cinnamon scent of her hair. Beneath me she trembles, her panting breath coming fast. I'm still inside her, surrounded by her heat, and it's like I never want to leave. 

In that moment I am unguarded, my desire not only reckless but uncaring. Of person, place or consequence. All that I need, all that I want, is this, the soothing balm of her body and the harsh rasp of her breath in my ear. I smile in a self satisfied manner, my lip's expression hidden against her skin. I can't stop the deep, contented hum of pleasure my voice makes, can't keep my hand from wandering, my lazy content mistaking her squirming for a pleasured response and not the outright rejection that she intends it to be. 

It's not until she's nearly frantic, her breath hitching between low spoken utterances that are getting louder and more desperate, that I realize something's gone wrong. Orgasmic euphoria gives way to alarm, my eyes blinking and scanning the darkness that surrounds us. But the shadows are too well blended together, proving ample cover for anyone, anything. Especially monsters, my body rearing back, skin prickling with unease,with anticipation for the blow. That it comes not from the dark, but from the woman who had been beneath me is unexpected, and it's not until her third slap hits that it registers that the only danger I face is the unbridled upset of a Belle pissed beyond measure. 

With nary a clue as to what I've done to deserve this, I grab at her. My fingers bite cruelly into the soft flesh of her arm, and then I am shaking her. Her gasp when I demand answers is pronounced, her upset increasing as she gives a haughty little sniff and tries to pull free. 

"Let go." Belle demands. 

"Not until you tell me what that was all about!" I snap back in retort. I can practically hear her teeth grind together, but it's too dark in this closet to truly see what sort of expression distorts her face. She keeps right on trying to get away, my hold so cruel, so rough that her arm has to be going numb, and yet Belle doesn't voice one word of complaint. She doesn't voice much of anything, too stubborn or prideful to relieve me of my complete confusion. I wonder if I've hurt her, and then just as quickly dismiss the thought. She had been loving it too much, her every shake, wriggle and moan the proof of that. And even if for some reason she hadn't, it's not something I should be caring about, or worse yet feeling even the slightest twinge of guilt over. 

And yet the unwanted feeling remains, just a smidgeon of it, but enough to plant a seed of worry within me. Lust is one thing, but to feel anything else, and for Belle? It's a recipe for disaster of the worst kind, and our lives are already complicated enough without my feelings suddenly going soft. I try to remind myself of that as I listen to her cry out in pain, my fingers purposefully squeezing, purposefully hurting her now. 

She slaps me with her other hand. I bite my tongue in response, listening to her pitiful whimper. Just as Belle is about to slap me a fifth time, I curse and shove her away from me. My fingers flex, scalded by the warmth I had been manhandling. I am very glad for the darkness, and how it hides me just as well as it does her. I don't know what expression she wears, but I fear mine shows some odd mix of pity and guilt. The worry gnaws at me again, and I am railing in my head about how what I do with Belle is no more meaningful than scratching an itch. But a kernel of doubt remains, and that uncertainty makes a mockery of my claims. 

With a muted curse mumbled under my breath, I began shoving myself back into my clothes. My shaking fingers fumble with the button of my pant's fly, and I shoot angry glares at what I think is the shadowy figure of Belle. I can hear the rustle of her clothing, Belle setting herself to rights just as quickly as I do. It seems she can't get away fast enough either, but there's no doubt in my mind that her feelings aren't anywhere as muddled and confused as mine are trying to be. 

My jaw clenched in firm resolution, I make a move to leave the closet without a further word spoken. Belle is the one who breaks the silence, her voice oddly shaking with it's expressed anger. "This is the last time, Hook." 

I almost want to agree with her, instead I say nothing. 

"Do you hear me, Hook?!" She demands. "This ends. If you come to me again I'll..." 

"You'll what?" I challenge, and take an aggressive step towards her shadowy form. "Just what do you think you'll do, just what do you think will be different from all the other times you've so eagerly invited my attentions?" 

"I..." She's almost speechless with her anger, and I laugh, a soft spoken sound that is meant to wound as much as mock. 

"Face it love, you're as addicted to this feeling as I am." 

"How dare you!?" She hisses with a resound thwack of her hand. I'm getting sick of being slapped by her. "Of all the unbelievable arrogance..." 

"And all the denials in the world can't change the fact that you enjoy what we do." I retort, my smugness oozing off me in waves. "What's the matter, love? Never got enough of it from him?" 

"Don't even..." I feel her shake. "This was a mistake. It--YOU have always been a mistake!" 

"And yet I am a mistake you keep on making." I point out, a smirk curling the corners of my mouth. 

"Not anymore." She says it so softly, I could almost pretend I hadn't heard it. But those words twist a knife in me, an irrational emotion forming in me, and it's all I can do to keep from snarling at her. 

Somehow I manage, instead sounding completely calm and unconcerned. "So you say." 

"Say nothing, I mean it!" I feel a finger poke me in the chest. "I'll never let you touch me again." 

"You're going to eat those words." I tell her in a grim tone of voice. "Maybe not today, and maybe not tomorrow, but soon. And when that times comes, I'm going to enjoy making you beg me for it." 

The shadowy form of her stiffens. "The only one who will be doing any begging around here pirate, is YOU." 

"Don't be absurd." I tell her with a soft voiced chuckle. "I've never had to beg a woman in my life to get her to fuck me." 

"There's a first time for everything." Belle retorts, and pushes past me. "And I realized today I have simply too much self respect to let this continue..." 

I grab hold of her arm, no less gentle than before. I hear her gasp, and then I am hauling her against me, trying to cover her mouth with my own. For one second I am certain she is going to yield, and then her teeth bite into my lip. It seems Belle is just as determined to prove a point as I was, and it's her soft, angry laughter that mocks ME now. 

"Just what is your problem all of a sudden?!" I manage to demand without actually growling. 

"That you don't even know, don't even realize what you've done, is perhaps the biggest problem of all." There's an undertone to her voice that I can't quite figure out, an emotion there that she is trying to hide. I am just as confused as ever, with no real hope of fixing this, and a part of me doesn't even want to try. It tells me I've got too much to lose, that I've finally got a new chance at happiness, that I will be throwing away more than just my life if I keep on pursuing Belle. 

It's a voice I should listen to. Faint though it is. And maybe I'll make an actual effort, and find the strength to resist eyes the prettiest blue this side of the ocean, and maybe just maybe it'll get easier with time. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

To Be Continued.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the part I am gonna be all grr grumbling. I had a REALLY hard time with the Hook POV, and ended up with like four or maybe five drafts. The only thing they all shared in common was the opening two paragraphs. My first attempts, Hook' feelings were too..a little too much too soon Belle love I guess, for this part of the story. Then there was an attempt that went off onto a tangent about Emma that is also more appropriate for much later in the story. 
> 
> Except for like the first three paragraphs, I am....not sure I am happy with this chapter. I may come back, or I may press on to four. I just don't know at the moment. Cause I do like the writing, but it kinda derails my plans, changes some of what I had intended to do. X_X 
> 
> I also wonder if it was a mistake to try to do a Hook POV, at least at this point and time in the story. u_u I did debate on making the whole story a Belle POV, but ultimately there are some things I want to show from his POV. 
> 
> Also think I need to watch season 3b again....it's not gonna follow it much...but there is a Rumple Belle scene, that I am wondering if I am remembering wrong from the actual show. 
> 
> Super frustrated and intending to work on something else (hopefully!). I have been struggling with this chapter for days. And it's freaking short too! >_<
> 
> \--Michelle


	4. Four

The door closes behind Belle with a firm sounding click. Strange how that subdued sound could leave me flinching, how it could hurt more than if she had outright slammed it in my face. It's what that sound, or the lack of it, implies. The clear, firm resolution, and the fact that she thinks I'm not worth any more of her anger. That she might just be right about that, doesn't make it any easier to swallow. I'm left standing in the dark, my hand raised to one throbbing cheek, while my mind festers with feelings of my anger, hurt, and confusion. 

The fact that I don't understand even a quarter of those feelings or where some of them are coming from, doesn't lessen the impact they have on me. I'm still angry, still confused, and most damnable of all, there's some soft, weak emotion inside me, a feeling that persists in me worrying, not for myself, but for her. There is strength in that feeling, my guilt and concern going far beyond any thoughts of lust and revenge. It's a fact that I've started to care just a little, and that it's a complication I neither want nor need. 

I let out a breathe, and it's a world of trouble voiced in that sigh. Because complications aside, the feeling remains. Weak, fluttering, but existing all the same. And not even my anger can kill it, this treacherous feeling of like stealing it's way into my heart. I mutter a curse against it, against her, but it's really myself that I am so angry with. For being so stupid, for unknowingly giving such feelings a chance, for making a mockery of my revenge. It's all gone twisted inside, and it has been that way for a while now. From that first unwitting time I had sought out Belle for something other than my revenge, for the sex and the comfort, and the fact that she had been there when Emma was not. 

She's been a break from the madness, Belle's warm, soothing presence a tangible thing that I gravitate to. There's a fire inside her, a vibrant passion that is wasted on others, wasted on HIM. And if I am the tiniest bit of honest, it's been wasted on ME. Because it's not something I've been able to appreciate fully, blinded by my revenge, by the things she represents to me. Belle's been the means to an end that keeps on changing, my revenge falling to the side in favor of a woman who keeps on hurting me. 

Emma Swan. 

I think of her now, the complex of associated emotions as always staggering. Emma's been my hope, my elation, my chance at a happy ending. She's also been a wealth of disappointments, a source of frustration. She's left me angry, and jealous, bruised and battered by heartbreak and it's made all the worse for the fact the woman doesn't even realize half of what she's been doing to me. Emotionally distant, as well as once separated by realms, Emma's always been out of my reach in one way or another. I keep on trying, keep on chasing after the dream of her, but that chance for happiness remains elusive. 

It's not that I am an impatient man. But frustrations abound, Emma's every verbal dig and thoughtless gesture, sending me reeling. Hurting and in desperate need of a comfort she won't give me. It's never been easy to court Emma Swan, and in a lot of ways I already know it won't ever get any easier. Because I know she doesn't love me, and it's something I've known for months now. Ever since that day on her doorstep, when I attempted true love's kiss and it had failed in the most spectacular of ways. 

I haven't wanted to believe. Haven't wanted to admit that Emma doesn't care for me. Not in the way I want, not in the way I need her to. In some ways I still don't want to acknowledge that truth. But some days it is harder to lie and make excuses for Emma and her behavior. It's like a poison that sets, festering long before the jealousy seeps in. The sheer wave of envy that comes on the heels of Baelfire's return? Seeing them together, the tender smiles, the concern in her eyes, the loving touches? It tears me up inside, and it's made all the worse because it's something I know I can't compete with. And a part of me knows enough to not even try. 

But acceptance doesn't come easy. And that acceptance doesn't make it hurt any less. Is it any wonder that I seek Belle out, that I go to the one woman I've sought comfort in over the course of this past year? A year that she, that they all can't remember, but it's happened all the same. Just as these feelings have happened, and hurt has given way to desperate need. All my pain and frustration, all my passion and desire, and most of all my anger, funneling into a lust that was all consuming. 

Set ablaze by it, for several frantic minutes I was able to stop thinking. Able to stop dwelling on what was lost, unable to focus on anything but the feel of the woman around me. I had been all but mindless, a being existing solely for the pleasure. That I had gotten it had been a blessed relief, but I hadn't had a chance to linger in my satisfaction for long. A dozen panicked thoughts had gone through my head at the change in Belle's demeanor, the woman frantic to get out from under me. For a very real split second, I had feared the dark, and it was that reaction that let me know I wasn't ready to throw my life away. It was a good realization to have, to know I wasn't completely crippled by the pain of Emma's rejection. But I wasn't healed from it either, the pain simply waiting, wanting to be warped into something else. That it turned into a kind of taunting anger, had little to do with Emma, and everything to do with the spitfire I had been fucking just seconds earlier. 

Twisted by the feelings that Belle had made me feel, the worry and the concern, that damnable like, I had been all too quick to hurt her in turn. Mocking her with one breath, goading her with the next, downright cruel at times, Belle the one remaining comfort in my life that I was attempting to destroy. Maybe I had succeeded, her words sounding final. But there's a twist in my gut, a feeling not unlike the ones I have come to associate with my heartbreak over Emma. Because it's not just my lust that is protesting the idea of losing Belle too, but the parts of me that are hurting, that are in need of the brand of solace she is so good at giving. 

Those protests are exactly why I should be staying away. Exactly why I should run from not to, Belle. It's a tricky, slippery slope once feelings get involved, the like that I am experiencing, quick to evolve into something more. It's a seed of emotion I won't be able to carve out, a feeling most addicting, the fleeting chance of it making a new fool of me. It would be the utmost in stupid to rebound from one impossible love to another, and it's not just the danger of Rumplestiltskin that makes it so. There's Belle herself to consider, her heart foolishly given away to another, to a man that's more monster than anything, and despite all, both her sins and his, their love remains true. 

It's a love I can't win against. A love not unlike that which exists between Emma and Neal, and I'm the loser twice over for even thinking like this. Weakened by my feelings, by the defeat I feel every time I think of Emma with Neal, I'm letting that damnable like for Belle hurt and confuse me even more. Reeling from it, from her, from THEM, I've let things become a whole lot more complicated than I have ever wanted. 

The complicated makes me bristle, leaves me longing for the days when my greatest want had been revenge. Back then, lonely as it was, I had been unfettered and free. Surrounded by people I hadn't given a damn for, using them all, even using Belle and Emma for my own gain. I'm reaping the product of what I've inadvertently sown, both women beyond me, both them and the happy ending I've always known was impossible but had craved for it all the same. 

It's never been fair. And it's a fact that's never going to change. I can play the hero all I want, but the fact remains startling clear. I'm a villain, and we don't get to be happy for very long. 

It's a lesson I've had to learn, a truth I've had to be forced into embracing. It's a fact that has been rubbed into my face, the smile and concern in Emma's eyes, the touch of her hand together with his, that quiet rejection just as stinging as any of the blows Belle had slapped into my face. My expression hardens, my thoughts becoming uglier, and it's pure self destructive loathing that has me tossing away all attempts at playing heroic. 

I saunter out of the closet, and it's a choice I make, not to try and leave as quietly as possible. I don't care who sees, who knows, giving them plenty to speculate on by my disheveled appearance. Eyes widen, and brows lift, my smirk further filling in the blanks of the tale. I'm downright defiant as I enter into Neal's hospital room, trying to ignore any pangs of those loathsome, soft and hurt feelings. She hasn't moved an inch from his side, their hands still held together, their fingers still entwined. Emma never even turns to look my way, and that puts the final nail in the coffin of my happy ending. 

My fingers curl, my hand making a fist. It doesn't hurt any less, and it's a hurt that makes me eager to lash out. I want to inflict the same pain I am feeling, shatter their dreams, and ruin their moment. I want an end to their happiness, but really it's myself that I am seeking to destroy. And with me, I'll drag them all down, and it still won't be enough, won't change a thing. She, they, won't love any less, and I'll still be drifting, drowning in misery. 

I shift in stance, forcing my eyes away from the loving pair on the bed. It's all too telling, that my gaze immediately goes to Belle. She starts in reaction, caught in the act of watching me watch them. My brow lifts with an unvoiced question, my mocking smile making her frown in turn. Belle stares at me a second longer, than abruptly turns away, her focus elsewhere a clear cut sign of dismissal. 

I keep on staring, watching the angry, embarrassed color seep into her pale skin. Her own fingers clench, tight fists forming on her lap. She's too affected by my stare, too bothered by what had happened, by what I had caught her doing but also by the insults that I've given her. The words I had taunted her with echo in my head, and not for the first time do I wonder if I'll have the strength to stay away. She's not the only one with an addiction, and her body is a brand of comfort I am needing, that sweet, sweet solace something worth craving. 

That the complications remain, don't completely sour the idea. I'm in more trouble than I thought, a glutton for misery that eagerly goes to stand in her way. Belle frowns at me again, then turns her attention to Emma, the woman saying something about a picture. Belle nods in a distracted manner, checking a device that I've seen many of them use in this world. 

"Belle, can you do some more research?" 

"Yeah, sure, absolutely." She says, already standing, already gathering her things. I don't move from the door, forcing her to brush up against my body as she tries to leave. The glare of her eyes, burns their blue brand into my soul, and I again give her that mocking smile, before stepping aide. 

I'm moving to follow, when Emma stops me with a word. The hope that has been with her, flutters in a weak attempt to revive. 

"Hook, wait." She hasn't even left the bed, still sitting perched by his side. "I need you to stay here." 

"What, why?" I ask, fighting the urge to cross my arms over my chest. 

"There's still some things I need to do. And someone has got to stay with Neal until he gets the okay to leave." She says. 

Babysitting the man that she loves is the last thing on my to do list, and I start to shake my head no. 

"Hook, please." Emma pleads, and I make one last ditch effort to get out of it. 

"What about Belle? Who is going to keep HER safe?" 

Emma glances at her father, who nods at me. "I've got this covered." He says. 

"Hook?" 

"Fine." I exhale a deep sigh, letting her know how put upon I feel. She gives me this sad sort of half smile that looks nothing like the dazzling love she has shown the man in the hospital bed. It's a sad sort of pitying expression that says Emma knows the book of us is closing before the first pages have even been written. 

I can't help but wonder if the tossed away chance of US hurts her even just a little. If it will keep her up at nights, if the memory of me will bother her even just a little. A part of me hopes that it does, I don't want to be that forgettable, that easy to dismiss from her life. I want the memory of me to burn, the kiss we shared to haunt her, to get under her skin where Emma won't be able to ever get me out. It's not her pity I want, it's regret. I want Emma to realize that she's making a mistake, unit her doubts and insecurities have poisoned her happiness. I want her to regret choosing him, want Emma to spend the rest of her life knowing she could have been mine. 

I want that knowledge to hurt, and I want her wallowing in the misery of it all. But what I want most is to have mattered, to have affected someone so strongly, so profoundly, that I break free of the villainous pattern I find myself locked into by fate. Maybe then the happy ending that I strive for will be in reach, no longer taunting me with fleeting glimpses of what could be. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

To Be Continued....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is such a weird rambly chapter. *head meets desk* I kinda like it anyway, even with all the fussing over it I did. Part of the problem with the Hook POVS, is I swear the character is derailing all my plots and plans. X_X ERG. *smacks Hook for making things exceedingly difficult for me* I'm also worrying some things don't match up right between this and last chapter, but part of the reason it's rambling, is because I was trying to show Hook coming to terms with some stuff (mostly about him and Emma), with Hook finally acknowledging the realizations he's had for a while now. 
> 
> This went through some rewrites. I think I got food poisoning that one Monday last week. All I know is I wrote from 7 pm to 2 am, then the food poisoning made itself known. By the time I felt better, I reread what I had labored on for hours, and discovered almost all of it was pure crap. I only kept the first three paragraphs from that night. But the I struggled with how the heck do I flow into the fourth paragraph after my third one ends. it was quite an ordeal to finally figure it out, but I seem to have, so yay? 
> 
> I also got derailed by a plot bunny. I briefly alluded to it in here, but basically while writing this, my trashed attempts was influenced greatly by this plot bunny. The plot bunny being, the year that everyone was cursed to forget but Hook, he had spent a lot of that year with Belle. I'm thinking of modifying it, and I've had him allude to it in this chapter. Basically I am thinking he visited her several times, in need of comfort. 
> 
> I'm really torn up over this chapter. I'm fearing it's too weird, or too stupid. Some of this Hook Emma stuff was affected by my feels for season 3B. I did feel like she kept unthinkingly hurting him. Confession time! When she and he confronted Zelena and Rumple, well when Emma was being insulting, saying something about why don't you curse someone I'd actually be willing to kiss, I had a fuck you moment. I literally went in my head, "Fuck you Emma, you don't deserve Hook." 
> 
> And then she went and gave up her powers to give him mouth to mouth resuscitation, and I was all, "All is forgiven Emma!" But then she pissed me off again at the end of that same episode, when she insisted she was still going to take Henry and leave Storybrooke (and Hook.). So 3b was rough on me for the Hook Emma feels. Though I LOVED the two hour finale. XD 
> 
> Now season four has been rough, not because of Emma Hook, but because of Rumplestiltskin. I don't know what the writers think they are doing, how they can even hope to justify his bad behavior, and then I had a freak out moment, cause I thought they were gonna end last week's episode with him killing Hook. *flails* 
> 
> Even before that heart reveal, I was worrying because of Rumple, that Hook's happy ending with Emma was going to be in jeopardy. I just want Hook to be happy!! *flails* 
> 
> Heck, the chapter was rambling, and so was my author's note. I'm still die hard Hook Belle, but I've always accepted my pairing isn't going to happen unless the writer's start doing crack cocaine and get crazy. So instead I just sit there, hoping for my fave characters to get happy endings, even if it's not with each other in cannon. 
> 
> Another rambling side note, I've been shipping Elsa Emma pretty hard. I even debated writing fic about it. XD 
> 
> Back to this fic at hand...I don't want to do three Hook POV's in a row, but I think I kinda have to, to deal with Neal/Baelfire's death. I just have in mind a guilty Hook POV, where our fave pirate is all, "I never wanted him to die!" But we'll see. I seriously want to be able to write an update for one of my other fics...I've been thinking the stalker fic, but THIS one has me drained to the point I don't think I want to deal with another angsty fic. Actually I've been thinking a lot about my Hook Emma Neverland fic....though it means I have to hold off on smut if I work on that one. XD 
> 
> \------------Michelle


	5. Five

It pains me to look at him. To look at the man he has become, to see the effect that she has had on him, Neal as he now prefers to be called, practically aglow with Emma's love. With the warmth she has shown him, the concern that she has expressed, and the tenderness of her continued touch upon him. I feel completely forgotten by her, Emma's every thought for Neal, right down to the favor she has asked of me. I wonder if Emma even knows how much it hurts me, how much the love that they both share kills me inside. 

Broken by it, by her, the feelings that I have had, that I have harbored for Emma, twist. Until little is left but ugly resentments, and the regret that even now I can't tell her no. Maybe I'll never be able to. Maybe I'll find myself forever in Emma's thrall. Always helpless to resist, always on the outskirts of his shadow, watching and waiting for the love that I will never have. 

It and love's promise of happiness never seem farther from me than it does now, the chance of it dangling just out of my reach. I can grab for it all I want, can and have made a fool of myself trying, but in the end it amounts to nothing, my hand alone not enough. I am not enough, some fault from within leaving me unworthy. Of it and of her, some stone carved rule setting out my path. Villains don't get happy endings, and I'm as rotten as they come. Have been that way for a long, long time, and all the wishing in the world won't change it, my past misdeeds or me. 

Knowing what I am, even accepting it, doesn't lessen the blow. There's an anger simmering inside me, a darkness boiling over in direct response to the hurts that have been dealt me. I resent her, and I resent him, and it's all I can stand to do as Emma asks of me. Favors both voiced and not, the staying with him, and the standing aside. Both deal in equal measures of pain, the hurt that I am feeling and my resentments increasing. I don't want to be anywhere near them, don't want to see, to witness the love that they have expressed. 

To that end, I excuse myself from the room. It's no easier to breathe out in the hall, the dark press of emotion crushing me in it's grip. But at least I can't see them, can't watch the way they hold hands, or witness every second that she continues to linger by his side. I can't escape my disappointments however, or the anger inside of me. At her, at them, but also at myself. For all of it, for her, for the disappointments I had set myself up for, and for the fact I had known from the start that this is how it would all end. 

There's a part of me that has never lost sight that we weren't really meant to be, that has always been aware of the fact that there had always been some sort of obstacle between us. Her love for Neal, the kind of man that I myself am, even whole realms between us, a part of me had still foolishly tried. And just as I had tried, I had set myself up to fail, a part of me divided, my interests split between the two. Emma AND Belle, and neither one of them were what I had originally set out to make them be. 

A part of the equation long before my interest in Emma became romantic, Belle's been a part of my life for years. She's been the means to my revenge, she's been my pleasure made real, and most of all, Belle has been there as comfort, seeing me through both the good times and the bad. She's been there for the highs and the lows, has even saved my life. She's as close to a friend as I can call, and she doesn't remember even half of what she's done for me. 

An indispensable, invaluable facet of my life, it's no wonder that I haven't been able to cut her free. My secret addiction, the sweet drug I've grown dependant on, I've gone from using her for revenge, to actually needing her. Especially now, the bad habit established, the hurt that Emma has dealt me, leaving my emotions raw and reeling. Sparking need within me, my desires and instincts mingling, the response that I've conditioned inside me seeking an end to the pain in the only way that I now know how. That brand of comfort that Belle is so good at, my pain pushed aside, forgotten in the moments that I am buried inside her. 

In those moments, no one else seems to matter. Not Emma, not Neal, not anyone else in this God forsaken town. The problems that seem to plague Storybrooke, the things that even I should be concerned with, turn inconsequential, and I'm back to being that greedy, selfish pirate. Existing only for my wants and needs. It's not just about coming, not just about comfort. There's a burning need there, a passion that's well met, Belle just as addicted, yearning for me, WANTING me in a way that Emma has never. 

It's that wanting that tips it all over, that sexual longing we both feel for one another that has kept me coming back. It's been a sizzling awareness from the start, an undeniable chemistry that neither one of us has tried very hard to fight. We're a well matched pair, Belle and I, right down to our complete disregard of the consequences our actions may ultimately have. On each other, and on others, this reckless, lustful need stopping just short of complete self destruction. 

A volatile thing, a need this powerful won't just end because Belle demands it to. There's a reason it's called addiction, why you can't just quit cold turkey. Belle is naive if she thinks otherwise, and I'll be there to catch her when she finally falls. And if she needs a little push in the process, I'll do THAT too. Because I've already decided, and I don't care if my actions will be dragging us both down. Belle doesn't get to decide when and how this ends. Any more than I do. It's not smart and it's not sane, this addiction such that it may get one or both of us killed. It'll be one hell of a ride in the process, and perhaps that thrill will be worth the trouble that follows. 

There's only the slightest thread of worry within me, the slightest sliver of concern. Some damnable soft emotion, a feeling born of noble intentions. I'm not anywhere strong enough to heed it, that same voice from before doing the faintest of whispers. I realize it's not just the strength that I lack, but the desire, and I'm so tired of trying to do right. In trying to become good enough for Emma, I've lost sight of myself, and I can't be that selfless any more. 

I feel a weight lift up off me, all attempts at playing the hero gone. There's a weary acceptance in me, but also a sense of right. We all have roles to play, and mine fits me like a familiar glove. I slide into it without looking back, don't pause to say so much as a goodbye. The man that I could have been, that love that I had been striving for, nothing but distant and bitter memories better left forgotten. 

It's the cold eyes of Captain Hook that meet Emma's, and the woman's so addled with her love and concern for another that she doesn't even notice the change. Maybe none of them do. Maybe they've never seen me as anything but a pirate, never believing in the chance that I could be better. The man that I had once tried to be would have flinched, hurt by that realization, by the mere idea that they had doubted in his ability to change. The man that I am now simply doesn't care, untouched by their opinions, by their complete disregard of who I had tried to become. 

That wanna be hero makes my lips curl. He's weak and pathetic, and an existence who has brought me nothing but pain. I certainly won't miss him, not the pain, not the heart break, not the numerous hurts that Emma herself has helped to inflict. That man who I had tried to be, hadn't known any better, too caught up in the pursuit, trying his best to become worthy. He---I had never stood a chance of that, or of her, and all the wishing in the world won't change that. 

The raw realization is one I have known for just short of forever, and it's one I have been fighting, blindly protesting and outright denying. I have just hurt myself more for all those attempts at denial, Emma's every action sharpening the dagger I have willing thrust inside me. I've bled for her, and I've bled all over Belle, every time Emma so much as thought of Neal sending me running to the brown haired beauty. 

Emma's done a lot more than just worry, the love expressed today open and honest. There's no room for doubts, no room for ME, Emma just as in love with Neal as he is with her. The wounds that I've helped Emma make, lay open, and it is anger and resentments that fester inside them. Blame bubbles in my heart, the twisted dark emotions ugly with what they make me feel, what they make me think. 

It's with dark sullen eyes that I watch the two say their goodbyes. It's sickening the way she lingers at his side, the way she acts as though this parting is going to be longer than a handful of hours. Most rage inducing of all, is the one trust she gives me, Emma expecting me to stay, to watch over and protect the man that she loves. That I do must mean some flicker of the hero must still remain inside me, that or some self loathing need to inflict as much pain on myself as possible. 

There's a million tortures to be found in this room even after Emma has left it. The scent of her perfume lingers,and it's strongest by the bed. By HIM, Neal sitting there, smiling, as love addled as Emma. Not even the danger that he's in, can make him focus on anything else for long, Neal aware of his victory, and just how lucky a man he now is. 

I turn away from him, turn away from that love addled smile. Turn away from the soft warmth in his eyes, and go to stare out a window. There's people out on the hospital's lawns, but they barely hold my attention. Especially when he finally speaks, Neal's voice soft, wistful. 

"Hard to believe that a whole year has gone by." 

I glance sideways at him, but don't turn from the window. "What's it like to lose a year of your life?" 

Neal shrugs. ""I'd say strange, but...that doesn't begin to cover it. It feels like just yesterday that I watched Emma and my son go driving over the town line..." He's a blur of restless movements, rubbing a hand over his face, shifting his legs on the bed. "Are you really sure it's been a whole year?" 

"I'm sure." I don't bother to tell him I counted out every day since I had been torn from Emma's side by Pan's curse. "And if you don't trust my way of counting, then there's the fact that Snow White is due to give birth just about any day now." 

"Makes me wonder what else we missed out on, what else we all got up to during this past year." I feel his curious gaze settle on me. "I understand you weren't cursed." 

"No." A curt answer is all I give him. I'm not willing to go into the details, not willing to share with him the sacrifices I had made. Both to avoid the dark curse, and to play hero to a woman who doesn't want me. 

"Don't you find that at all strange?" He asks me. "Why you out of all the people in this town?" 

"Just lucky I guess." 

"No one is that lucky by chance!" Neal retorts. "Something or someone had to warn you. I want to know who." 

"Too bad for you but we don't always get what we want." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" Neal frowns at me. 

"Nothing." I lie. "Instead of focusing on what you can't remember, you should focus on what you do have. Emma and your son...." 

"He doesn't remember me." Neal whispers. "Henry doesn't remember a damn thing about me. No, it's worse than that. He thinks I'm a loser. He thinks I abandoned him and his mother..." 

"Didn't you?" I asked, and turn a curious gaze on him. "It's my understanding you left her to rot in a jail for your crimes." 

"It wasn't like that!" Neal protested. "I was...I didn't, that is..I thought I was doing what was best for her." 

"For her, or for you?" I demand. He frowns in response. "We both know you didn't want to go back to your father. We both know you were ready to do just about anything to avoid him. I bet when you found out she was the savior you couldn't run far enough fast enough...." 

His face turns an angry shade of red, and his hands are clenching into fists. Neal shakes his head again, and then abruptly tears out the iv line and it's needle from his arm. "This is stupid." He announces, and goes to stand and gather his things. I am half hearted as I move to block the door, not really wanting to stop him, not really caring to try. 

"Get out of my way Hook." 

"Emma asked me to stay here with you." I point out, my gaze just as hard as his. 

"And we both know you do whatever she asks, right?" He demands, and my jaw clenches in reply. "Look, it doesn't matter. I don't have time for your games. I need to be out there, with Emma, trying to find my father and whoever is responsible for the curse that was cast. We need to work together to stop her...." 

"In your condition you'll just get in Emma's way." 

"I'll be fine." He insists, and then pushes past me. "The sooner we find this witch, the sooner we can all go back to our normal lives...or whatever passes for normal in this town." 

"Yeah, good luck with that." I mutter insincerely. But I let him go. I've little real interest in stopping him, and if Neal's that energetic, than he deserves whatever he gets. And I'm through caring about what happens to him, or about what Emma's reaction will be. To him, to me, to all of it. I'm through with their problems, and with the problems plaguing this town. From now on I'm out for myself, and myself alone, taking what I want when I want it, and there's not a damn thing anyone can do to stop me. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

To Be Continued....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so frustrated by this chapter. I have been trying to work on it for days. Had a hard time starting it, then I got pretty far, like 11 kb but was doubting the whole time. It serves to listen to my doubts, cause I realized I needed to dissemble a lot of what I had written, cause Hook was having thoughts and realizations way too fast. In other words he went from one thing, to another way too fast. Acceptance and understanding that should have taken place over the course of several future chapters. Let's just say he went from hurting to look at Neal, and accepting he's a villain, to getting along with Neal, and thinking he has a chance to be something in between hero and villain. *face palms* I had a hard time to accept that I had to trash it at this time, cause I really like what I had written, but it would have done the story and Hook a great disservice to rush him that fast from point A to point B. 
> 
> On the plus side, it gives me stuff to work towards trying to get to happen in this story. This idea has become very much a fly by the seat of my pants experience. Basically every time I make plans, or try to plot, Hook's narratives completely mess up any chance of the things I wanted to do. So I am just going with the flow and trying to get there. 
> 
> I also stressed myself trying to get this chapter finished before 8 pm rolls around. I fear Hook's fate in the winter finale tonight, and if they do what I think they might do, I am gonna be devastated and not want to write. (meaning I fear Rumple is gonna succeed and crush his heart! *flails*) 
> 
> Another thing that helped delay this, aside from Hook always throwing a monkey wrench was trying to decide if I follow cannon and have Neal die or not. Still trying to decide.... 
> 
> \---Michelle


	6. Six

There's an open book laid out in front of me, the first of what may prove to be hours worth of research staring up at me. I stare down at the page, at the squiggly lines of text that have all blurred together, and not for the first time do I let out a sigh. I don't even know how many times I have looked at this particular page, how often have I started this book over, paging listlessly past numerous ink drawings. I don't even know half of what I have looked at, my mind unable to truly focus on the task at hand. The one fact that is made apparent through all this? That I am going to be of no good to anyone, least of all the Charmings and Neal.

With a immensely frustrated sound escaping my lips, I slam the heavy book closed. Dust seems to rile up from it's ancient and weathered pages, the book and others like it, a mocking reminder of what I had promised to do. There's hours of research to be had, hours of searching that is made worse by the fact that I cannot concentrate. It doesn't matter the urgency of the situation, how time itself might be working against us all. I simply cannot focus, all my thoughts, all my energy consumed by HIM. By thoughts of Hook, and of our last encounter. 

Haunted by it, by him, by the words spoken, I wonder if I have the strength to back up the words I had hissed when at my most furious. Somehow hours after the fact, when the worst of my anger has fled, I am left just tired and shaking, with nothing to warm me but the cold feeling of my regret. The feeling should be nothing new. I've often regretted my actions with Hook after the act is over. It, the lows that I have experienced, go hand in hand with the highs I've felt at his touch, that mad cap play of extremes, Hook making me run the gamut of feelings when with him and when not. I've been aroused, I've been desperate, I've been uncaring of the danger and damage done. Only to come crashing down, sick over what I've done, over what I've allowed to happen, my heart beating frantically, regret and self loathing coloring me, and each time I've not let it stop me from doing it again. Gladly and eagerly, something very much like joy filling my heart every time Hook stroked that needy itch inside of me. 

It's not something I can claim to understand. Nor is it something I can truly excuse. I'm a different woman when I am with Hook, something inside me responding to that dangerous gleam in his eyes, to the threat of him and the threat of us that puts in jeopardy my future with Rumplestiltskin. Worse yet, there are times when I don't even care, too wrapped up in the feel of Hook to spare much if any thought as to what I am doing, who I will be hurting with my actions. That all changes soon after, the waves of doubt, dread and regrets hot on the heels of the receding pleasure that I have received. 

The worst is that the self anger and loathing, the regrets, are never strong enough to get me to stop. Hook just has to look at me, that hungry, predatory gleam bringing me to split apart, that other secret me emerging, the one who lives for these moments. That other Belle is just as huge a part of me as my every day face is, that woman passionate and wild, selfishly needy, and undeniably attracted. Wanting and wanted, and not willing to share, that other me makes a mockery of my love and values, clinging to a man who would just as soon as hurt me as fuck me. 

Not even the fact that Hook's done both, has been enough to get ME to stop. He's shot me, slapped me, threatened me on numerous occasion. He's never been exactly sorry, the man ruthless enough to do just about anything to get his revenge. He's driven and without much mercy, that side of him an eerie reflection of the man that I love. Hook and Rumplestiltskin are more alike than either would care to admit, both willing to do just about anything to achieve their own goals. I'm caught between them, drawn to danger, to the risk I place myself in by being with both of them. 

Addicted to it just as much as to them, I wonder when-how I became such a junkie for such danger. Always a bit of a thrill seeker, that adventurous heart inside me had--is always craving for more. New highs, that ecstasy of adrenaline, that rush of exhilaration when being threatened. Only to spiral down into the lowest of lows, that sensible, rational part of me leaving me to feel ashamed. It's never been enough to get me to quit cold turkey, it's never been enough to get me to even TRY. 

Until now. It's not self respect, and it's not self preservation. It's not even a sense of right and wrong. It's none of these things that give me the strength to now try. It's my own jealousy, that mad rush of fury that I had felt to realize that I was nothing more than a substitute for the woman Hook had truly wanted. Hearing Emma's name uttered on his lips, knowing he thought of HER while inside me? Something not easily fixed had broken inside me, that sickening mix of jealousy, anger, and the need to possess him consuming me whole. 

With those potent feelings churning inside me, I had been warmed from the inside out with my rage. I had turned on him, absolutely furious, and made even more so by the fact Hook hadn't even realized just what he had done wrong. I hadn't taken the time to explain, more content to keep striking him with both my words and my slaps, my body shaking and made to feel dirty. In that one moment he had cheapened everything between us, and never had I felt more used than I did then, existing as just a shadow of the woman he had really wanted. 

Not content to be her replacement, Emma's name had been the splash of cold water I had been needing. The motivating force to finally do the right thing, the sane thing, the only thing I could do. It's not something I can claim will be easy, having spent months-years with Hook on the sly. He knows how to work me, how to rile me up and render me weak and ready for his desires. I've never once tried to resist, but then I've never been as determined as I am now. It's for myself that I try to find the strength, because I won't be Emma's substitute, or Hook's plaything anymore. 

I'm not thinking it will be easy, but neither am I prepared for just how determined Hook can be. I get my first taste of that determination when I hear the sounds of someone forcing their way into the pawn shop. It is a sound eerily similar to when Neal came crashing in earlier, and my face flushes a mortified red as I recall in vivid detail exactly what-who I had been doing at that precise moment. My body reacts to the memory, a shiver going through me as I force my legs to move. I propel myself to the front of the shop, and that's when I see him, see Hook. The front door is cracked open enough that he is trying to break the chain. I just stand there, not saying a word, not trying to help, and with a loud curse, the chain finally breaks under Hook's persistant onslaught. 

He actually stumbles forward, then draws up short at the sight of me. I'm not sure what sort of expression I am wearing, but Hook frowns at it all the same. 

"No need to look so disappointed, love." He says. 

I react, that insincere endearment making me inwardly flinch. "I thought you might be...." 

"Yes, I've no doubt you did." Hook interrupts. "But there's still been no sign of your crocodile." I frown at him for that, and start to ask Hook why he is here. I barely get out the words, Hook interrupting me to ask where Charming is. 

"He's not here." I say, watching the puzzling way Hook reacts. "He left over an hour ago to help his wife with something." 

"He LEFT you?!" It's almost a snarl, Hook propelling himself forward. He looks very angry, and I take an uncertain step back. "Alone? When that witch might very well be hunting you?" 

"I managed fine on my own." The reassurance comes out defiant, my chin lifting stubbornly. 

"You shouldn't have had too!" Hook growls. "I only agreed to stay at the hospital because Charming said he would stay with you!" 

"It doesn't matter." I say, ignoring the way Hook sputters and growls. "It's not like you CARE." 

I get the pleasure of seeing the shock register in his eyes, Hook looking as though my words had given him a very real slap to the face. And then I turn away, heading into the private rear of the shop. I hear the rustle and creak of the floorboards, Hook following close behind me. I busy myself with one of the many thick and ancient books, the pages turning with a rustle that sounds angry even to myself. 

"Of course I...care." He finally says. I can hear the creak of something, a bookcase most likely, as Hook leans himself against it. "I wouldn't be HERE if I didn't." 

I fight the snort his words arouse inside me, turning more pages, barely seeing the images and words printed on the paper. I'm no better at research now than I was earlier, but at least it gives me an excuse to not look at Hook. 

"I'm sure Emma won't appreciate you leaving Neal." 

"Emma fails to appreciate a lot of things where I am concerned." His reply makes my eyes widen slightly, and before I can stop myself, I am wondering about what that means. The angry rustle of paper increases, and this time it's myself that I find fault with, for daring to be curious in even the slightest towards Hook and his situation with Emma. 

"And Neal?" I say to distract us both from my reaction. "Is he still at the hospital?" 

"No, he's long gone." Hook answers. "Probably off traipsing the woods with Emma somewhere." 

"While you're stuck here with me." 

"It's a choice I made." He insists. "I'm where I want to be." 

"Now that I find hard to believe." I mutter it softly, and yet he still hears it, the creak of the bookcase sounding as Hook pushes away from it. 

"Why is that, love?" He asks, and I try not to stiffen at his approach. I'm more aware of Hook behind me, than the book in front of me, my breath starting to slow in my chest. "Hmm?" He's gotten too close, his breath stirring strands of my hair. The pages of the book before me turn faster, any pretense at reading them lost to the nervous play of my hands. 

I maintain my show of silence, trying not to shake when his hand covers and stops mine. The pages settle with a quiet rustle, the only sound in the shop that of our soft breathing and the tick tock of the clocks. 

Hook's presence, his nearness hits me then, a sizzling awareness sparking through me. He's too close, the pleasant clean scent of him filling me with every breath that I take. The warmth of his hand, that light but possessive touch causes my skin to react, tiny pin point bumps prickling along the length of my arm. It's not wholly unpleasant, and yet I want to rub that feeling away, stamp it and the affect that he has on me into the ground. 

I let out a shaky breath, and stare sullenly down at his hand on top of mine. "I don't have time for this." 

"This?" He questions in my ear, his warm breath caressing over the curve of it. I abruptly jerk away, putting distance between us. The self satisfied smile he gives me in response makes something in my belly flip, and it's a storm bitter look that I give him. 

"People are counting on me." I say. "The research I do here could prove invaluable..." I shake my head, and grab at a different book on the table. "I simply don't have the luxury of soothing your hurt feelings. No matter how badly Emma has hurt you this time." 

I quickly look down at the book, busy myself with it's pages as Hook lets out a hiss of breath. "Emma? She's done nothing that..." 

"Oh don't lie to me Hook. Not about this." I quickly interrupt. never taking my eyes off the pages of the book. "You and I both know how it usually plays out. She says or does something that you don't like, she hurts your feelings with her concern over Neal, drives you mad with jealousy, makes you seethe with the fact she is in love with another." I'm glaring at the book now as I speak, my voice a clipped tone meant to hide the feelings behind my words. 

"It-SHE doesn't have anything to do with..." 

"She has everything to do with this!" My voice snaps out forcefully, my agitated passion coloring that exclamation. Immediately I feel the heat warm my face, a mortified blush spreading across my skin. It's made all the worst when after a shocked pause, Hook laughs. An honest to goodness chuckle, his amusement heavy in that sound. 

"You're jealous." He says, and Hook sounds all too satisfied and certain of that. 

"Don't be ridiculous." I immediately retort. But I can't look at him, can't bring myself to so much as glare in his direction. "Why would I....?" 

"You are." He insists, still sounding so smug and satisfied. "You shouldn't be." 

"Oh?" It escapes me before I can bite down on my lip, my hands shaking as I hear Hook move. I take a step back, and then another, bumping into a knick knack lined shelf behind me. It's then that I look up, taken aback by the seriousness of his gaze. He maintains that look a second longer, then breaks it with a smirk, openly laughing at me. My heated cheeks warm further, my eyes narrowing into a severe gaze. 

"Stop teasing me like this." 

"Oh, love. I haven't begun to start teasing you." More smugness from him at the shiver that I am unable to repress. 

"You're in too good a mood for someone whose heart has been trampled." I finally mutter and look away. But not before I catch the sobering look in his eyes. 

"Aye it's been trampled, but it's been that way for a while now." admits Hook. "I've just been too stubborn to want to admit it. To you, to myself, to anyone." 

"What changed?" I inquire, making a half hearted show of rifling through the book. 

"Kind of hard to keep lying to oneself when the truth is right there in front of one's eyes." He sighs then. "She loves HIM. And that's never going to change." 

I can't bring myself to express my sorries for what-WHO he has lost. I frown at myself, for the uncharitable thoughts that I have, for my own feeling of smugness, that need to possess him making me glad that SHE doesn't have him. Not anymore. But then neither do I, not in any meaningful way, and I try to squash down the rest of such thoughts before I lead myself to more trouble. 

"If it's true, you can't change the heart." I mutter instead, a line from an old tome that has proven to be fact time and time again. Out the corner of my eye, I note the bob of Hook's head, the man actually agreeing with me. 

"So now what?" I ask, curious despite all my intentions. 

"Now?" He echoes, and I look up in time to catch that odd smile on his face. "I suppose I am now free to pursue other...avenues of interest." 

"How..." I hesitate. "NICE for you." 

"Not just for me." He grins at me in the way that sets me off shaking, things deep inside me clenching in reaction. I instantly busy myself with the book, my trembling fingers fumbling badly with the pages. I don't know what I am expecting him to say next, what I am secretly hoping for, but Hook doesn't follow that line of thought out loud. Instead he leans over the table, opening one of the many books there, to stare down at a random page. I am torn between disappointment and a sigh of relief, still unable to pay attention to the words before me in the book. Minutes pass like this, until Hook, his tone all too casual, breaks the silence. 

"Do you ever wonder about the year that you can't remember?" 

"All the time." I truthfully answer. "But then, don't we all?" I eye him now, remembering Hook is just about the only person in Storybrooke to not be suffering under the spell of the witch. 

"Why don't you ever talk about it?" I ask. 

"Some things should remain buried." He tells me, carefully paging through the book. 

"But not a whole town's worth of memories!" I protest. 

"It's not the town I am concerned with." He mutters. 

"Why? What did you do?" He looks up at me now, Hook's smile a coy expression of some inner amusement. 

"So sure it's me that I am protecting?" 

I blink slowly, then shake my head. "What? What are you getting at?" 

"Are you sure you really want to know?" Hook asks me, pushing the book that he was browsing aside. "Because once that box is open, you may find it hard to shut it close again." 

"I..." For one beat I hesitate, made so uncertain by his weak attempt at a warning. "I want---NEED to know. It might be important." 

"You have no idea." He mutters it so soft and quickly, and in response I make a quizzical sound of his name. 

"Hook?" 

He locks eyes with me then, the dark blue of them so serious, with an undercurrent of satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. There's a hint of a smile or smirk curving at the corners of that sensual mouth of his, and it's clear he's about to relish whatever it is that Hook intends to tell me. I feel the uncertainty beat at my chest, my heart fluttering on a tremulous beat, the words to stop Hook frozen in my throat. There's a morbid need to know, to find out what secret could be so bad that even Hook would try to protect me from it. 

"That year you can't remember...? You spent most of it with ME." 

The shock hits me like a fist, my lips parting on a soft gasp. I stand there staring at him, and feel the heavy book slip out of my hands. It just misses my foot, thumping hard against the floor boards. I don't even react to that near miss, so busy staring at Hook. He grins at me, that amused light back in his eyes, the pirate leaning nonchalantly against the table while I gape and gasp at him. 

"You're..." 

"Lying?" Hook interrupts. "To what end would THAT serve?" 

I can't think, I can't muster up a suitable retort. I can only stand there in total shock, wide eyed and staring at Hook as though the pirate has sprouted a second head. He maintains that cold amusement, watching me with a hooded gaze. There's a dozen half formed accusations fluttering about my thoughts, and not all of them are directed towards Hook. I want to scream and shout, maybe break down and cry. Through it all I think of my love, my so called feelings for Rumplestiltskin, and just how deeply I've betrayed him. I wonder if I ever even took the time to grieve him, and I wonder at just what I've become, the kind of woman I now am. Whoever she is, I don't like, and she leaves me wondering how much farther a woman like her—like ME, can sink. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

To Be Continued...eventually...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sighs* I freaking HATE this chapter. It didn't go the way I wanted it at all. First I have been struggling for nearly a month with this damn freaking chapter. Worst case of struggling ever, as I ended up with over 70 opening lines, and three wips, before I got one to my satisfaction. I thought once I got past establishing where Belle's head and thoughts are at, I would be over that hurdle and could get to some sexy shenanigans being attempted by Hook. That clearly never happened....maybe I'll come back and trash this chapter. I just don't know, and I am super frustrated. 
> 
> Next chapter should probably be a Hook POV, but I just don't have it in me to attempt it at the moment. I am so damn sick of this particular chapter, the attempts to work on it. Honest feedback would be very much appreciated..I feel like I screwed up so badly here. 
> 
> \---------Michelle


	7. Seven

My shock is colored with grief, with all the turmoil and confusion that I feel, the guilt and the self loathing. I have a million questions, and so few answers, and Hook can only tell me so much. He can fill in the blanks of the past year, but can tell me nothing really of what I had been feeling and thinking. He can't justify my actions, the reasoning behind them, and what's worse, Hook probably doesn't care to try. He's never cared. I've always been just a tool for him, first as a means for his revenge, and then as both that and a coping mechanism too lust crazed to say no. 

That lust that I feel for him, this thus far undeniable passion, is the same reason I shouldn't be surprised now. I've never much cared for time or place, and that was BEFORE Rumplestiltskin had died. I can only imagine how much more brazen and shameless I had become, how self serving and without remorse I had been. Had I even mourned, had I even cared to try? The answer was what I feared, was what made me shed tears that I was undeserving of. 

Faintly I hear him, Hook speaking my name. I could only stand there shaking, the tears leaving their hot trails on my cheeks. At his touch I became completely undone, my legs giving out, my body collapsing against his. I hear Hook grunt, feel him take an unsteady step back before his arms strengthened their hold around me. He held me as I shook, my face buried against his chest, my tears wetting Hook's shirt. 

Time slipped away from me then, much like the year I had lost. One minute I was coherent of nothing but the overwhelming sadness, the upset over the person I had become, that greedy, uncaring woman. And then the next? I found myself seated, a metal flask pressed against my lips. I had already imbibed a generous helping of the rum, and not even the stinging taste, and strong smell had completely gotten through to me. At least not at first. I found myself blinking still wet eyes, found myself seated not on a chair, but across Hook's lap. 

I was too distraught to color in embarrassment. Too distraught to do much of anything but stare. He wasn't smiling anymore, that sensual mouth of his instead frowning. His blue eyes were dark, and more serious than I could ever recall seeing and yet I couldn't begin to fathom where his thoughts lay. 

I don't know how long we stared at each other in this way. Maybe we would have kept on staring for just about forever, but the sudden shrill ringing of my phone, jolted me into action. The flask fell to the floor, the remains of the rum spilling out onto the lacquered wood. I was already lurching upright, intent on finding and answering the phone, when calloused fingers closed around my wrist. That was all the warning I got before Hook jerked me off balance, and I came tumbling back down on top of him. 

"Wh--what?!" Was all that I managed to say, the breath knocked out of me, out of us both. Before I could do much more than squirm, Hook's arms had locked around me, holding me in place. "The phone..." I tried to say, the insistent ringing continuing. I got the next shock of my life, when Hook buried his face in my hair, muttering something too soft to make out. 

His behavior confused me, and yet I tried again. "It could be important..." I froze at his response, Hook's lips finding my ear, whispering a hoarse question into it. 

"Is it really that repugnant....the idea of spending so much of that missing year with me?" 

If I hadn't already been so shocked, I might have managed a frown. Instead I could only blink rapidly, barely able to fathom what meaning to put behind that question of his. 

"Well? Is it?!" His voice came out sharper, a hint of anger to it. I startled in place against him, reacting to that tone with a shiver going through me. 

"I..." My voice came out with a shaky breath, my inability to truly speak agitating him further. I felt the tears leaving their slick trails once more on my skin, Hook then lifting his head at my sniffle. 

"Belle?" 

I couldn't, wouldn't apologize for crying. For mourning that which I wasn't. I closed my eyes briefly, mustered my courage to ask Hook about my greatest sin. "Did I....Did I even once...feel anything for Rumplestiltskin's passing?" 

The startled look that he showed me, was nothing in comparison to the relief that followed. Hook managed so much as a half smile, tilting his head in a nod. 

"Aye." He said. I wanted to take comfort from his strong, sure confirmation, but that alone wasn't enough. I needed more, needed to know every last detail if I was to have a semblance of peace. Hook seemed to sense where my thoughts lay, his expression still serious even with that glimmer of a smile. 

"I held you often enough like this in the weeks that followed." His hand lifted, fingers touching my face, brushing back some of my unruly curls. "You were besides yourself with grief. We BOTH were." 

"Emma." I managed to say her name without any true anger to it, the jealousy I had no real right to, held at bay for this one moment. 

"Aye, Emma." He said her name almost wearily, a new resignation in his eyes. "I thought her lost to me for forever..." Hook shook his head, laughing without true humor to it. "I was wrong." 

"Oh?" My own tone was guarded, my muddled feelings such that I couldn't begin to fathom the right response to show. Hook's expression became rueful, the man again shaking his head. He was still playing his fingers over my hair, but that touch couldn't detract from the seriousness of the mood, or Hook's words. 

"You can't lose what you've never had." 

I couldn't stop myself, my eyes widening in shock. Hook let loose a humorless chuckle, but was otherwise silent. 

"That's quite a realization to have." I finally say. 

Hook nodded. "It's one that's been a long time coming." He scowled then. "I was just too stubborn to accept it." 

There were no words that seemed appropriate, nothing I could say that wouldn't ring insincere. I wasn't sorry for what-who he had lost, and I only regretted that Hook hadn't written off a chance with Emma a lot sooner than this. 

"So now what?" I finally settled on a cautious question. 

"Now?" He asked, his tone soft. My insides appeared to do somersaults, Hook having dipped his gaze to look with hungry longing at my lips. The smile he gave me was wolfish, Hook having felt the way I had begun to tremble in response. "Now I suppose..." His face was closer, his breath warm on my mouth. "There's no reason to hold back..." 

I was caught unprepared, not by his kiss, but by what had been said. Not just the epiphany Hook had had about his chance with Emma, but by all of it, by the missing year, by the fact that I had apparently grieved Rumplestiltskin after all. And for weeks by the sound of it, but a million questions remained. So too did the mistrust, the doubts and insecurities. I began shoving away from the pirate, trying to squirm free of his arms. 

"Belle." My name was a tortured moan from his throat, Hook again trying to kiss me. God help me, but I WANTED his kiss, even as I fought to evade it. I kept turning away, kept trying to shove free, fighting myself as much as I did Hook. He was all too tempting, and it would be far too easy to fall into old habits, our familiar give and take of twisted need and comfort. I had--was changing, no longer able to settle for simply being the woman Hook sought out for sex and solace. I had my dignity to think of, my self respect, but that uncontrollable lust, that fiery passion Hook always stoked so expertly inside me, was ready to burn away any attempt at resisting. 

Hook abandoned his quest for my lips, his feverish kisses falling along my throat and exposed collar. I couldn't stop the gasp, couldn't stop from quivering with need, my body both wanting to melt and purr over such a touch. I felt like such a weak, wanton of a woman, so desperate and needy, and to such extremes for this man. Only my earlier vows, both the anger and the hurt I had felt over being used, and the memory of how much it had gutted me to hear Hook moan Emma's name, kept me from giving in so completely. Even as my body grew damp in eager preparation, even as my legs trembled with the force needed to keep my thighs closed to him. I was pushing away, my hands slapping wildly and then I was free. 

"Belle?!" His passion wasn't cooled one bit by his anger and confusion. Hook panted as hard as I did, both of us sounding as though we had run several miles. I shook all over, even as I took unsteady steps back, Hook rising to his feet to aggressively pursue me. 

"No!" I said it loudly and strongly, my right hand held forward to ward him off. I watched the tic in his cheek dance, watched the way Hook glowered in frustration, his fingers curling into a half formed fist. "No." I said it more quietly, but with no less force. "I won't be your rebound. I won't be the tool you use to get over the hurt Emma has dealt you." 

"Emma?" His look was a confused frown, Hook shaking his head no. "This no longer has anything to do with her." 

"So you say." I retort quickly. "But do you honestly believe that?!" 

"I..." 

"And do you honestly think I can believe that?!" I added, with a shake of my head. "No, nothing's changed. She's STILL hurting you, and in turn, you're still using me as some twisted coping mechanism." I willed myself to stay angry, to not give in and let bitter tears fill my eyes. I wanted to present a strong front, to not appear torn up and twisted inside by him and the situations we faced together, or the feelings that he made me feel, that wild want, that irrational need to own and possess him. 

Those feelings were so dark, so twisted, and so far beyond my current understanding. I was drawn to Hook, in ways I couldn't explain. In ways that were different from my attraction to Rumplestiltskin. I wanted, maybe even needed the pirate, in ways I had never any other man. But I didn't love him. I couldn't, this need a suffocating obsession that would see us dead if I didn't put an end to it. 

"Belle..." I had thought his prolonged silence a confirmation of my accusation, but then I saw the determination in his eyes. "Yes, Emma has hurt me, and hurt me many times over. And yes, I can see that I've spilled that hurt onto you...but the blinders that I wore, the sway she had over me, it's all gone. I had a realization today, hell I had several, and I don't want to be chasing forever after a woman who doesn't want me. A woman who has given her heart to another." 

"Like I've given my heart to Rumplestiltskin?" I demanded tartly. It didn't have the desired effect, Hook smirking as he once again advanced on me. The edge of a table hit the small of my back, my trembling hands reaching behind me for a steadying support. "I love him!" I said it quickly, trying to stave off Hook's touch. "It's Emma all over again...." 

"It's not." Hook's hand went flat on my chest, as though he would reach in and caress directly my wildly beating heart. "There's a very real difference between you and her...." He was already leaning into me, his lip's aim a chaste touch on the lobe of my ear. His whisper was husky, his all too real satisfaction inerrant in the words he relished. "Emma never once gave herself over to me." 

I closed my eyes at that, his hand now curving around my breast. I couldn't play surprised, couldn't do much of anything, having already known Emma wasn't sleeping with Hook. He never would have continued to fuck me otherwise. He would have been loyal, in ways I hadn't been able to be to Rumplestiltskin. 

The guilt in my heart was written on my face. Even as I spoke, even as I told Hook that this had all been a mistake, I knew he was right. There was a difference between myself and Emma, the savior able to love truly and not falter in the face of temptation. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

To Be Continued.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First I want to say I don't hate the previous chapter anymore. Enough time passed, that now I can't remember why I hated and was so stressed out by chapter six. :) Yay! :) 
> 
> So...okay not sure I shouldn't have tried to continue this chapter rather than end it where I did. Maybe when I've had some sleep, I'll change my mind and come back to tinker with it....though really I'd like to get to a Hook POV now...so we shall see. 
> 
> I know I thought seven would be a Hook POV, but it didn't happen. I kept flip flopping back and forth, and have lines for both a Hook POV and a Belle POV...it also didn't go exactly like how I planned in terms of the beginning, but hey! I LIKE what I ended up with as an opening, and it just flowed from there. Even though I worried it was derailing a lot of my future plans. X_X 
> 
> I'm pleased even with the slight derailment, I got some of what I thought would have happened in this scene. One of the reasons I was so frustrated by six, was I had imagined a scene where Hook get a little forcefully seductive on Belle (Though he doesn't go all the way, he stops.), and while she's trying to resist him, the phone is ringing (Which would be Emma and Neal. XD). Of course that scene didn't actually happen the way I had first imagined it...I'm kind doubly eager to get the next chapter written, cause hopefully it will set up the story to the point where Belle encounters Rumple in Zelena's shed! If I don't get derailed again. 
> 
> Also, while rereading I noticed a HUGE mistake that I've yet to correct. Basically in chapter one, in Belle's thoughts, she said Zelena's name. But they're not supposed to KNOW at this point and time who the witch is! *face palm* 
> 
> Slight spoiler..I debated a long time whether to keep Neal alive or follow cannon. Ultimately I decided he is going to live! Even though he and Emma are just background characters compared to the drama that is Hook Belle! XD 
> 
> Laters! 
> 
> \---Michelle


	8. Eight

My lips to Belle's ear, I breathe in the flavor of her. That sweet vanilla and cinnamon scent that perfumes her body, can't mask the emotions that all bubble to her surface. I feel them, taste them with my soul, keenly aware that the effects of my nearness and my words are the catalyst for them. I'm responsible for her every angry quiver and fear, every flinch of guilt, and that smoldering attraction that we both cause and feel. It's especially strong, that rapturous desire that neither of us have ever been able to control. It tortures us both with a kind of madness, this feel good insanity of highs and lows where nothing make sense, nothing feels right except for the moments that we steal. 

Moments like this, when it's just us, my body pressing so insistently against hers. My lips on her skin, the scent of her rising, my rough and calloused fingers gentle on the plump fat of her breast. There's been hundreds of times like this before, years worth of moments, of memories, and yet my eyes have never been as open as they are now. I see what I hadn't before, the woman I handle meaning so much more than just sex and revenge. She's solace, she's passion, Belle every desire I've had made real. She's what Emma was not, Belle able to feel, and to feel it with ME. 

It is new appreciation that colors my gaze, my eyes taking in the signs of her distress as I ease back. My hand on her breast, immediately lifts up to touch her cheek, the tears there having wet the skin. Her crying before me is nothing new, even if the reason behind it is, Belle disturbed by what I have said, by what my words have implied. I think her beautiful even at her most teary eyed, those trembling lips beckoning, the soft skin of her reddened cheeks a luxury gone unappreciated for too long. It's a fool who ignores a woman's passion for the cool indifference of another's, and there's been none greater than I. 

Fool that I've been, I can see now to the damage that I've done. Belle's hurt, the wounds I've given her running deep, pain and misery seeping out of them, out of her. I want to lave my tongue over them, over her, soother her in the way that I know best. It's all I can do not to drop to my knees, the idea alive in my mind, alight in my eyes as I stare at her with a hunger that is gnawing. It doesn't matter that she pushes me away, that Belle tries to cling to a love that can't be true. Her heart is divided, what Belle wants at war with what she THINKS she needs. Belle lets the conflict confuse her, actually tries to hide within it, but we both know the hurt and jealousy wouldn't be there, that I wouldn't be there, twisting emotion inside her otherwise. 

I can't even truly be sorry, not for making her feel. This lust that I have had for her, has always been first and foremost a selfish, cruel thing. It's a want that has desired, consumed, has danced ever close to destroying, and gloats now over the depth with which she suffers. It's not love that I feel, but it's not hate either. It's some damnable need, this wanting, that ties us together, some twisted urge that goes beyond comfort. I want to posses Belle, to have her completely, to thoroughly own the woman that both makes me feel and in turn feels by me so strongly. It's not a happy ending I now seek, it's something darker. Something befitting of the villain that I now know myself to be. 

It's Captain Hook that eats up the sight of Belle's distress, that pushes back the remnants of the good man that I had tried to become. That man, that would be hero, had never stood a chance, so unwanted, so unloved. Tolerated at best, reviled and ignored more often than I cared to count, the mistakes of a soiled past cannot be erased by the half hearted attempts of a wannabe be hero. 

Tainted as I am with a soul riddled with mistakes and bad choices, I acknowledge what everyone else already has. The pirate, the villain, the evil that has no place in a world full of heroes. I turn my back to them, to Emma and her family, to the people of this town. I turn and look forward, to the one woman, the one soul who had seen me at my worst, and accepted me even then. Belle, who I've used, manipulated, slapped, and even tried to kill. And she had never once turned it against me, accepting my brand of darkness as easily as she does Rumplestiltskin's. 

Belle knows me for who I really am. Not only knows but responds to it, wants the pirate as much as he wants her. She wants the fire, the danger, lets herself be scalded by my touch. Let's herself in turn be tainted by my filth, that darkness that should have swallowed her whole a long time ago. Instead she blazes bright with a hurt that is chiefly the fault of my own. I'm the reason she cries now, that she rebels against what I tell her. It's torture to her, the thoughts I have given her, but I don't believe for a second Belle's distress centers around her unfaithfulness to Rumplestiltskin. 

I was the one to hurt her, to wrong her, time and time again. I've neglected what matters most, Belle's heart, her feelings in tatters. I've done to her a sampling of what Emma has done to me, but made it so much worse. I've hurt her, and put in shambles the relationship that should have been formed. I've run rough shod over Belle's feelings and our chances, too blinded by my pursuit of Emma for so long. 

The crimes that I've done Belle, would send a noble man running. Would make a good man leave, the chance of her, the chance of us, forever lost. The bad man that I actually am, doesn't believe in giving up, will dog Belle to the ends of the world if need be. I want her, and I will have her, and it's not just comfort and sex that I am after but the rare, passionate woman that can see my darkness, and accept it. 

There's a double edge to that kind of passion, to the kind of feelings Belle and I are both capable of. It's both the good and the bad, to feel so strongly, to want but to hurt just as badly. I take in her pain now, marvel at it and her strength to withstand it all. Not just what she remembers, and what I have done, but the year that Belle, that just about everyone in Storybrooke has forgotten. Thoughts of that year both make me smile and flinch, a sting of pain, of betrayal, coloring the happy. Because now I understand better why she would leave me, why Belle would just up and disappear one day after spending nearly the whole year by my side. Because that time had been tainted, spoiled by my longing for a woman who wasn't there, who had never been there. 

Corrupted by my heart's focus on Emma, it wouldn't have been half as easy or as pleasant a time for Belle, what with having to comfort and distract a man so consumed by his longing for another. Emma, the thought of her, must have haunted us both, and I can no longer feel anger over Belle's abrupt leaving. I understood and I forgave, but more than that I repented, determined to make things right, to win the woman who had quietly endured more than I had understood. 

Brave, beautiful soul that she is, I must believe that Belle has it in her to forgive me one last time. To give to me what I would otherwise take, her heart, her everything, her all. My thumb caresses along her damp cheek, my gaze touching upon her lips before dragging up to stare into the pretty blue of her still teary eyes. Belle trembles and trembles even more when I touch my forehead to hers, the hundreds of unspoken memories, and the dozens more of what might be a million apologies lingering on my lips. 

"Belle I...." She never once breaks her gaze from mine, not even when I lick my suddenly too dry lips. The words make my tongue fumble, my confession and the sorry not coming easy to my lips. "I'm so..." 

The sound of the shop's front door banging open, swallows up the rest of that word. Belle's back already against the table, jars it further with her attempt to pull free. Her hands push at my shoulders, actually trying to shove me away. The sudden intrusion into our private world, is enough to set me off balance, my hand reaching for her, not caring what it looks like, or who will see. Belle ducks under my arm, her own hand to her face, fingers working to brush away the tears. She can do nothing about the distressed color of her skin, but soon it doesn't matter, a familiar voice calling out what should have been glad tidings. 

"He's alive!" It is Emma who shouts it, and shouts yet again. "Gold's alive...!" 

Belle stops up short, her shoulders shaking. "Rumple's really alive?" She whispers it just before Emma bursts into the room. The blonde haired Savior takes in the sight of Belle's face, and misreads the distress as a sorrowful joy. 

"Yes, and so's...." 

Neal enters, looking dazed and confused. He's gripping his hand, rubbing fingertips over that strange burn mark in it's palm. His skin seems paler than it had been in the hospital, and there's dirt and twigs staining and stuck to his clothing. 

"What happened?" I ask, and watch as both women react, Belle flinching, Emma frowning. 

"Hook." She says it with all the disapproval that she can muster. "You were supposed to stay with him..." 

"Yes, well he wanted to leave." I counter then add gruffly. "Besides, I'm not the only one not doing what he was supposed to." 

"David had to see to Mary Margaret..." Belle quietly reminds, but she won't meet my gaze. "I was perfectly fine on my own..." 

"Fine isn't the same as being safe!" I retort, aware Emma is giving me a strange look now. 

"Rumple would never let anything hurt me...not even that witch." Belle insists, then reaches to take Emma's hands. "Where is he? Where has he been all this time? And where is he now?" 

For some reason Emma looks away, her green gaze seeking out Neal's. "Perhaps you better sit down for this..." 

For one second Belle looks as though she would argue, but her need for answers wins out over any further protests she could make. Belle lets Emma lead her past me, towards a seat at the side of the table. Neal comes to stand besides her, his fingers still playing on the burn mark. 

"Well?" Belle asks in a voice strained with exhaustion. 

Emma shares another look with Neal before speaking. "Did you, did you find out anything about that burn mark on Neal's hand?" 

"No nothing. Not yet at least." 

"It's the mark of the Dark One." Neal's voice draws all three of us to stare at him and the hand he holds up. The wound is just as red and raw as the day it must have been made, as though it would never truly heal. 

"The mark of the dark one?" Belle echoes, her lower lip trembling with what might be fear. 

"It's all right....they are both all right..." Emma is quick to reassure her. 

"Then why isn't Rumple here?!" 

I wondered that too, even as I fight a grimace, not liking the complication that will be Rumplestiltskin back in our lives. "What happened to the crocodile?" 

"He died." Neal whispered. "He died and I brought him back to life." 

"To life, but how?" Belle asked. A touch on her hand, drew Belle's gaze back to Emma's. 

"We don't have all the details...there simply wasn't enough time. But because of that witch's manipulations...Neal nearly died as a sacrifice to bring the Dark One back." 

"I don't...I don't understand..." 

"That makes two of us." I mutter. 

"I SHOULD be dead." Neal stated. "I would be, if not for my father, and for Emma." It was a loving smile the blonde haired woman gave him, Emma's green gaze so soft and warm in a way it had never been for me. Once such a look would have sent me reeling, would have tightened my chest with a stabbing sharp pain. The insecurities would have risen, the pain born on a fact that I had never wanted to acknowledge, that of Emma's heart belonging to another. It would have sent me spiraling on a self destructive course that would have seeped into Belle's path. 

Now instead, I looked, saw, and accepted with an indifference that would have shocked Belle, had the brown haired beauty bothered to look my way. 

"Then...?" 

"The original magic, it would have seen Neal dead. But Gold...he did something, forced them to share a body." 

"Share a body?!" Belle exclaimed with a guilty sounding gasp. It was all too telling, that sound and the way she quickly glanced my way before gazing up at Neal. The young man and the savior didn't seem to sense anything was wrong, not even the way Belle's hands formed white knuckled fists in an effort to control her shaking. 

"It was to save my life. One body, one life force..." stated Neal. 

Belle stared up at Neal. "Then all this time...Rumple was here with us?" 

"Sort of...." 

"Then why didn't he......" 

"It's not something he was able to control." Emma quickly explained. "And when I separated the two....well Neal SHOULD have died." 

"I believe I WOULD have died, if anyone else had performed such a magic." Neal corrected Emma. "But the fact that you are the savior and the woman that I love...." 

"True love." I can't help but sneer, and all eyes are drawn my way, even Belle's. "It's miraculous magic was at work again." 

Emma doesn't blush, doesn't do much except stare at me with a cold kind of sympathy. Neal is not exactly embarrassed, but my words have made him flustered all the same. Belle's expression is the hardest to take in, the hurt there an accusation that I have earned. Her lips trembling with it, she continues to stare at me as I ask the question whose answer seems to have gone forgotten. "So where IS the crocodile again?" 

"Er...." Neal hesitated, sharing a look with the blond haired woman. "That is." 

"We miscalculated." spoke up Emma. "Don't worry, he's not dead!" She quickly added at the distressed sound Belle had just let out. "It's only....with the two life forces separated....the witch....she's now able to use the dagger to it's full potential." 

"And by using the dagger, she can control Rumple." Belle whispered. 

"So that's it then." I say. "We're all doomed." 

"Not quite.." Two simple words spoken by Emma, but they set off a world of unease inside of me. "There might be a way...." 

"Might?" I snap sharply but the sinking feeling inside me says I already know what Emma will say. 

"I wouldn't have believed in it before, but I have seen it at work...with Henry, and now today, stronger and more miraculous with Neal." 

"True love's kiss." Belle whispered in a soft reverent tone. 

"No..." I say, but it's as if no one hears me. "NO!" 

"You're the only one, Belle." Emma speaks gently. "The only one who can break Gold's curse, free him from the dark one, the dagger, and the witch's control." 

My gaze narrows, my stare almost hateful as I glare at the woman I once thought I could have loved. "Do you have any idea what you're asking?! What risk you might be placing her in?!" 

Emma is startled by my outburst. I don't know what she finds more troubling, the hate filled look I am giving her, or the way I move to protect Belle. "Hook...this is the only chance we might have..." 

"Belle is not someone expendable!" 

"No one in this town is." A burst of anger sparks in Emma's eyes. "I wouldn't be asking her to do this, if I wasn't going to be right there to protect her." 

"Protect her?! And what good would your magic do against the Dark One?!" 

"I am the Savior." She reminds me. 

"Savior you may be, but your magic is from an inexperienced hand at best!" I retort. "Belle is not going to..." 

"I'll do it." Her trembling hadn't stopped, but Belle was sitting up straighter, her eyes touching on each of us individually. "I will break Rumple's curse." 

"Belle, thank you..." 

"Are you out of your mind?! I won't allow it!" My snarl raises the eyebrows of all present. I know I am coming off as irrational, and uncharacteristically protective of a woman I had once tried to kill. A woman who by all accounts I supposedly despised for her close ties to the monster that had cost me everything once. There was no room there for my near violent reaction, my furious anger and protests, and I just didn't care. I'd blow Belle's secret to high water, before I let her risk herself for the town on him. 

"I would have thought you'd be the first to be all for it if it saved your own hide." Neal mutters. I want to hit him then, taking an aggressive step towards him that doesn't distract me one bit from my need to keep Belle away from Rumplestiltskin. "Emma told me how you stole the bean, how you were willing to leave and let all of Storybrooke perish." 

It was all too tempting to play his game, to fall into the trap of arguing who had hurt Emma more. But I wasn't about to be distracted, wasn't about to hurt Belle by letting Neal manipulate me into acting like I still cared one bit about the Savior. 

"Don't speak on what you can't possibly begin to know about." 

"OH?" Neal was glowering now. "You'd do well to take that advice to heart as well." 

"What is that supposed to mean?!" I demand as Emma gives a sharp voice gasp of Neal's name. 

"Just that your not exactly in your element when it comes to true love and it's kiss..." Now Belle added her gasp to Emma's, my fist finding it's way to the other man's jaw before either woman could have stopped me. 

"Neal!" Emma not only pulls him away, she steps in front of him as though she would shield his body from my fist. The sight of her, so protective and strong, isn't what deters me. It's Belle, her hands on my arm, her urgent fingers digging into my coat's sleeve as she tries to drag me away from the Savior and her lover. 

"Hook, stop it, please!" Her pleading is colored with her high agitation, drawing my gaze to her, as I take in the strain Belle's continued distress is having on her. 

"Belle..." I let out a deep breath, trying to control the anger that they all have roused. Neal for his insults and insinuations, Emma for the danger she wants to expose Belle to, and the beauty herself for agreeing to risk it. "You can't." I state firmly. 

"You can't decide for me." She counters, her blue eyes defiant as she gazes up at me. 

"The hell I can't!" I roar. "Belle I..." 

"Your worry is misplaced." Her own gaze narrows at me. I'm sure the tic in my cheek is dancing in anger, my frustration making it show. "Rumple would never hurt me." Belle adds. "He LOVES me." 

My words are a nasty whisper meant for her ears only. "But can you honestly say that you still love him back?" It leeches the color from her face, Belle taking a step back with a muted gasp. 

"I..." It's almost violent, the way that she shakes her head, the way that she looks past me towards Emma. "When do we do this?" 

"As soon as we can gather Regina and some of the others." I don't buy for a second that the Savior hasn't carefully taken in our interaction. I wonder what she makes of it, of what she might assume. Does she realize there is something more going on, or is she too blinded with need to protect a whole town, that she’d willfully ignore the truth hinting before her, to place Belle in danger? 

"Don't worry, Hook." Emma draws and holds my gaze with her own. There is something there, some acknowledgement that had been missing just seconds before. "I'll be there, and so will Regina. Together we will not fail Belle." 

It's not the reassurance I want or need, and it shows on my face. The pity that Emma now throws my way, hints that she thinks I am back to pursuing yet another unattainable woman. She still doesn't know the half of what is going on, will be shocked to learn my desire hasn't just been one sided. 

"Emma, you don't know..." 

"Can I have a word with you, Captain?" Belle interrupts me, her voice louder and more forceful than I have ever heard it. 

"Belle?" Emma asks, uncertainly. She's not reassured by the look Belle gives her. I give a terse nod, and watch as Neal all but drags Emma from out of the room, muttering something about needing to make some calls. I then hear Belle let out a breath, a long, weary exhale of a sigh. 

"Just what do you think you are doing?" 

Those words of hers make my back go rigid, the anger and the agitation surging stronger within me. "I should be asking you that very thing!" I hiss like a snake, and move just as fast, turning towards her. Belle takes in the angry color of my face, the glare darkening my storm blue eyes, and the barely leashed violence that even now coils through me. I'm this close to reaching out and grabbing her, of shaking some sense into her and it shows. Belle pales and takes a wise step back, but her eyes for all her fright, don't lose their defiant gleam. She actually lifts her chin, her haughty head proud and determined. 

"I thought you prided discretion above all else, Captain." 

"It's Captain now, is it?" I demand, and it's all I can do not to lunge that small distance to her. She again takes a step back, the tiniest of unease clashing with her defiant stance. "It won't work. You can't distance yourself from this or from me. Not with names or the lack of them, and certainly not when the truth is glaring you so obviously in the face." 

"And what truth is that?" Her tone is a whisper, but unlike me Belle isn't hissing. She's trying to maintain control, to put up a tranquil facade. I see right through it, through her, to the hurt and the heart of the matter. Belle's still clinging to what she thinks is the truth where my feelings for her and Emma Swan are concerned. That little exchange with Neal probably hadn't helped matters in convincing Belle of otherwise, and I was ready to throttle the man all over again for the setback he had caused me. 

"You don't love him." She lets out an indignant scoff at that, trying to deny it. "You don't. I know it, and you know it, and Rumplestiltskin, hell the whole of Storybrooke will know it, when you kiss him and fail to break his curse." 

"I..." 

"Is that what you want?" I ruthlessly question her. "For all of Storybrooke to know?" I give her a cruel grin, my anger a taunting evil thing. "Love, there's easier ways to accomplish it then that." Is it just the endearment that now makes her flinch, Belle cringing as I loom closer? "And all we need do is tell them." 

"No..." 

Another cruel twist of my lips, my hand touching her face. "Perhaps we need not even do that...." It happens too quick for Belle to be wary, my fingers sliding across her skin, into the curls that border the line of her hair. It's a cruel pull of it I do, forcing her head back, my lips going to but not actually touching her mouth. Waiting for her to scream, for Belle to make some sort of sound that will draw the Savior and her lover back into the room. 

Her distress though is a soundless thing, Belle trying to push me away and squirm free. But my fingers' grip is harsher yet, my body becoming an immovable, rigid force that won't yield to her in this. 

"You don't love him." I remind her. 

"It's not you that I love either." She gasps after it has been said, mortified outrage on her face as Belle realizes what she has basically admitted with that defiant utterance. "I...I didn't..." 

"You did..." My grin is something gentler now, but no less wicked. "You did!" I insist as she continues to protest softly. Those quiet sounds are swallowed up entirely, as I cover her open mouth with mine. That gasp that I experience through her own breath, warms my black heart, and just like that the worst of my anger is tamed, the victory she's given me singing through me. Belle doesn't love me, but then she doesn't love him either. There's both a chance and a hope in the woman acknowledging what we both had already known to be fact, a tangible power that even Rumplestiltskin can't deny. Belle once already mine, would be so again, even if it damned Storybrooke and the world. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------- 

To Be Continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say I am happy to be writing period. It's been a rough summer, full of lot of stress, anxiety, and even severe depression. This wasn't even the story I have been trying to update for the last three weeks. I finally listened to a friend, and switched stories. I had been trying to update the time travel curse fic, and it has an INSANE amount of attempts at an opening sentence. I am having the worst block for it..I know what I have to do in it, but trying to translate the vision in my head into the written form has been a terrible failure. 
> 
> So I can't begin to convey how happy I am I wrote something. Even if the Hook POV once again derailed me...and I hope he doesn't derail me for next chapter too....Part of what I wanted to do in this chapter, was to have him reflect on the missing year in more detail. But obviously that didn't happen. X_X 
> 
> I am having mixed feelings for this chapter. On one hand I love that I wrote something at long last...other hand conflicted over how each time I write a Hook POV it totally derails me..I'm sorta worried I made a lot of mistakes with this chapter....I also worry the part with Emma and Neal isn't that good. 
> 
> Now I am off to spellcheck and proof read. Hope you had a happy reading. 
> 
> \---Michelle


	9. Nine

The air swirling around us crackled electric, the energy between us a darkly sexual thing that reveled in the words Belle had inadvertently gasped out in her moment of defiance. They filled my hungry, greedy heart, swelled longing in my loins. The smug certainty that I felt turned my kisses into a celebration, each punishing press of my mouth over hers another confirmation of what I intended, and of what I already knew. The answering tremble of Belle's lips, that soft, reluctant kiss back did nothing to cool the fire that was in me. Instead it ignited it, set me ablaze with an inferno that would sweep Storybrooke, the world, maybe even the entirety of the universe, into a free falling chaos. Existence as we know it would be destroyed, and it didn't seem to matter, Storybrooke and it's people damned to a hell by my own choice. 

Remade in her arms, her breath breathing life itself into me, Belle had become all that mattered. Having her and safe guarding her, protecting her from the world, from the Dark One, even from herself, I'd do it all, with a sword and a smile as my arms. 

Treasure that she is to me, Belle can hate me, revile me, loathe me. But never can she deny me, or the passion that we share, that we have for one another. It's a crazed power that holds sway over us both, that has held us in it's grasp from our very first meeting. I've had her in two of the universe's realms, in this shop and out, and all over town, unable to have my fill of her. 

It's an inexhaustible desire that we both have, a never ending spiral of lust and need. It has driven me back to Belle time and time again, has led me to be unfaithful to the woman I had once thought I could love. Once blinded by the shining being that is the savior, I had still instinctively sought out the quiet beauty, my need and hers branding our bodies, connecting our souls. It's made me belong to Belle in a way that I could never to Emma, and I am a fool for almost failing to realize it. 

A dozen more urgent pressings of my lips, my kiss is both reverent and seeking a forgiveness I have not earned. She kisses me back, but even as Belle yields more and more to me, I can sense a part of her trying desperately to hold back. That will not do, a harsh demanding growl escaping me as I let go of Belle's hair to splay fingers against the small of her back. With that touch I press us together, force a knee between her legs. Her soft hands with those delicate fingers, grab at and dig into my shoulders. But she doesn't push me away, instead clinging to me for support on her precarious perch on my knee. 

Wanting the nearest hard surface and ready to settle for the floor, Emma's voice is an unwanted interruption that is the splash of cold water Belle douses herself with. She stiffens completely, her grasping fingers frozen in place. Her mouth itself turns limp, her lips not so much as trembling, the kiss dying with her fear. I fight back a snarl, sure there is murder in my eyes. Emma's hands are then on me, tearing me away from Belle. 

"What the hell is going on here?!" Emma shouts out. "What do you think you are doing to her?!" 

Belle stumbles back, and nearly collapses to the floor. I want to go to her, but the Savior is dragging me back, her own expression livid. "Hook...!" She snaps in warning. 

"Swan." I growl, my jaw clenching hard. "This doesn't concern you." 

"Normally I'd agree." Emma says, her own voice still so angry. "But there's more at stake here, a whole town! Storybrooke doesn't need you trying to confuse Belle..." 

"Confuse her?!" I I whip towards Emma with a wild disbelief showing in my eyes. "She was kissing me back, just as much if not more!" 

Emma still hadn't let go of my arm, but her eyes darted towards Belle, her glare turning concerned. "Belle?" 

I glanced Belle's way, hearing her let out a sound of distress, a muted sob just before she covered her face with her hands. 

"Hook!" Again Emma did her best to keep me from moving any closer to Belle. I shook with agitation, with the need to go and stop Belle from crying. "How long has this been going on?" 

It's an opportunity to hurt her, and one I should relish. But I'm more concerned with Belle then with Emma, ignoring the blonde to stare at my distressed beauty. There's a growl in my throat, my barely leashed fury taking turns with my agitation, with my need to comfort and soothe. Emma doesn't once let me go, as though fearing what I would do to, WITH Belle. 

"Just...." Emma's exhale is a heavy weary thing, full of her anger and disappointment. "Just tell me this much. What am I letting her walk into, if we go through with the plan?" 

I let out my own deep breath, forcing myself not to snarl. "If the witch doesn't kill her, the Dark One will." 

"No!" Belle cries out in protest, while Emma curses up a storm. "No, Rumple wouldn't hurt me..." 

"Tell that to his WIFE." I snap, my pointed rebuttal making Belle flinch and cringe back. 

"No...no..." She mutters again and again, wringing her hands together, looking for all the world like she might burst into tears all over again. "Rumple has changed. He's different from what you knew then..." 

"We don't know WHAT he's like now." I can't help but shout. "The Rumplestiltskin you supposedly know so well DIED. Who knows what came back..." 

"He loved his son enough to try to save him..." She whispers in retort. "I--we all owe enough to him to believe that he's changed, that he's still the good man who let himself die to save us all from his father!" 

"I don't owe that monster a damn thing!" My voice is louder yet, both with anger and with disdain. 

"I think Belle is right...for the most part." 

"Oh no, not you too!" I scoff and turn to scowl at Emma now. 

"He'd do anything for his son and for Belle." She says. "But more than that, he told us what we needed to know. The name of the witch and what she might be after." 

I didn't ask what that was, I simply didn't have it in me to care. Emma stared back at me, the angry frustration in her eyes a direct response to my sullen stare. 

"Who..." Belle's voice came out on a tremulous note. 

"Zelena." 

"The mid wife!?" I couldn't help but be surprised. 

"She's after Mary Margaret...or more to the point, the baby that she carries.' Emma quickly explained. I glared harder at Emma, not liking, not trusting the effect her words would have on Belle. 

"What does she want with the baby?" Belle asked. 

"That we didn't get to find out...." Emma sighed. "Gold didn't feel there was much time before the witch might chance upon us...He told us just enough, to ready us for the battle that is ahead." 

"Belle..." Emma finally let go of my arm, and it was I who grabbed HER now, as the savior tried to step closer to the brown haired beauty. "Do you still love him? Do you still love Gold?" 

"I...I..." Belle and I both knew the answer was no, but her tongue tied itself in knots to keep her from admitting those damning words out loud. Emma waited a beat, then gave an aggressive look to me. 

"Do you love HIM?" She asked while nodding her head at me. 

Belle's face immediately turned mortified, the woman squeaking out a no as she shook her head. It might have been amusing to an outside observer, but to the Savior it was infuriating. 

"This is a fine mess you've caused." 

"ME?!" I cry out in disbelief. 

"She doesn't love you, but she doesn't love Gold either? You picked a hell of a time to enact your revenge on him!" 

"This isn't about revenge." I say through gritted teeth. 

"Oh?" Emma arched her brow at me, her own sneer practically mocking. "Then what IS it about?" 

I couldn't begin to put it in words she would understand, and told her as much. That only infuriated Emma more, but the passion Belle and I share wasn't a thing easily explained, especially to someone like Emma who had always held herself back from me, content instead to wallow in the calm, collected purity of a love that had proven true. 

I look at her now, see how unaffected she is by the flames that have engulfed Belle and I. I'd never have been able to settle, to content myself with such cold, unfeeling simile. She was wrong for me from the start, Emma's heart my fool's quest to pursue. 

She stares daggers into me, her toes tapping impatiently for an answer I can't give her. I won't even try. "Great, just great." She finally mutters. "It's not about revenge, and it's not about love, and the whole town is going to be the one who suffers the price!" 

"I..." Belle’s voice sounds, soft at first, then growing stronger as the woman pulls herself together. She looks straight ahead, meets Emma's gaze and ignores my penetrating stare. "I'm going to go to him." 

"Belle?!" Both Emma and I exclaim. 

"I...I know my kiss probably doesn't have the power to break his curse..." She says. "But I...I can TALK To him at least." 

"What good will that do?!" I demand with a growl. Emma is again grabbing my arm, keeping from reaching towards Belle. 

"Much as I hate to share a sentiment with the likes of him..." Emma hedged. "I have to wonder the same thing?" 

"Well for one thing, I might be able to find out more. What he wouldn't, or couldn't say to you, he will to me." Belle explains. 

"A dead woman won't have a voice to tell his secrets." I mutter ominously. 

"He won't hurt me." Belle insists, and Emma lets out a breath. 

"You really do believe that to be the truth...." 

"Yes, I do." Belle looks at me now. "Rumple would never try to hurt me. No matter what I've done...." Her voice almost breaks on a sob, but she maintains her composure. "I'll find out that witch's grand scheme, but more than that, I may be able to find out where his dagger is...or buy you the time needed to wrest it from Zelena." 

"You can't possibly be serious..." I say and then glare. "Swan, talk to her. Tell her what a stupid, reckless, dangerous plan this is!" 

"It's not without it's dangers yes...." Emma said it, but in a hesitant manner. 

"You can't actually be considering letting Belle do this!" I grow angrier with my protests. "You said Belle wasn't expendable, that no one in this town was." 

"I meant it too." Emma said. "Just as I meant Regina and I will be there, to protect Belle should something go wrong." 

"You can't protect her and search for the dagger." I point out. 

"I know. That's why you're coming with us." 

"That goes without saying." I reply in an instant, some heat to that statement. 

Emma doesn't bat an eye in response. "With you, Neal, and Robin searching the grounds, maybe..." 

"Awful lot of maybes to be putting faith in." I mutter. I feel a hand brush my arm, a hesitant trembling touch that is almost not there. I glance at her, at Belle, who maintains that touch just long enough. 

"I will be fine." She says. "If you can't have faith in anything else, then trust that much at least. I will be fine..." 

We stare at each other in wordless communion, and I see it all. The hurt and the hope, and most of all the fact that Belle has weathered and survived worst. She's survived me, survived the evils I've done her, the hurt I am still causing her. My own eyes smolder, a dark determination in them, and it's Belle that I am wanting to protect, to save, to serve. She won't like the idea that sparks in my head, or the smirk I fight back. But I've decided all the same. I'll find that dagger, and it will be my hand that ends Rumplestiltskin's threat against Belle. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

To Be Continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I am on the start of a roll it seems...or at least for this weekend, having finished another chapter so fast! Whoo! But I am unhappy I couldn't get the chapter to be longer...Hook didn't derail me TOO badly this time around...but I swear he is trying to derail the whole idea, with something he was whispering in my ear as I wrote that ending line. *face palms and tries to resist.* 
> 
> Next chapter is supposed to be a Belle POV...I probably have to watch a certain scene first for research before I can work on writing ten. I need to see what of the canon version of the scene I can use, plus I don't remember well the details of the scene, but the aftermath I remember pretty good...of course I will be expanding on the scene in a way the show didn't dive into (*Crosses fingers for luck.*), and seeing where all that ultimately leads too...I'm both excited and dreading being at this part, cause I have to consider how much of season 3b to work mentions in as a background to the story going on here....why I dread it is...I might have to rewatch more of that season....and the Oz storyline wasn't my favorite of all the arcs Once has done. X_X So I def been dragging my heels on rewatching it... 
> 
> Also wanted to try and clarify something better than I did in this chapter...I'm not saying Emma is not passionate, just Hook is viewing her as not, because she never went on fire for him like she would for Neal. Hook is choosing to interpret her and true love as a less feeling, more cold kind of thing. Yes, he's a little bitter and twisted up still! 
> 
> Originally I thought the second half of this chapter would have the gang all traipsing off to Zelena's property....but we can't blame that on Hook for once! 
> 
> Still super happy, and now super giddy about completing another chapter! Whoo hoo! I def think though I will have to figure out a better, more apt summary blurb to describe this fic now.... I also hve to fix an earlier chapter, where I made the mistake of having Belle already know what Zelena's name was...X_X
> 
> \---Michelle


	10. Ten

We didn't waste much time on gathering a large party to storm the witch's lair. Time was of the essence, and our goal was not to bring the battle to Zelena's, but to win it through stealth and subterfuge. To that end, with myself counted among the six chosen, we split into two groups of three, the men in one car, the women in the other. Joining us, was the one time Evil Queen, and a man that wasn't much more than a stranger to me though I had saved Robin Hood's life not once, but twice. It still made us smile at each other, Robin with a genuine warmth, and I myself with a sad sort of acknowledgement. I was glad to see him, glad that he and his cross bow were coming with us, but more than that I welcomed the memory that the sight of him caused me. The memory of the day I had first began to realize there was more to Rumplestiltskin than the monster that he would pretend to be. 

I needed that memory. I grabbed at and clung to it, to the warmth that it brought, to the sheer pleasured surprise of that moment when the arrow had MISSED Robin's heart. Of course Rumplestiltskin had tried to make some flimsy excuse, but we had both known it to be a lie. There was no way he could have missed, no way for the magic on those enchanted arrows to fail, the silver tipped projectiles meant to always find their intended mark. Rumplestiltskin HAD spared him, a thief who had stolen from him, and stolen to save his pregnant wife. I hadn't loved Rumplestiltskin then, but something in my heart had moved for him, the relief I felt buffeted by a joy that had brought my lips pressing softly to his cheek. 

That had been my gratitude expressed, such a silly, whimsical thing to offer when I had nothing else. But it had affected Rumplestiltskin more than he would have admitted to, not more than a day passing, before he had gifted me with the library. Of course he tried to play it off as more work for me to do, that I needed to thoroughly dust and care for each book, and every nook and cranny of the room. He hadn't been fooling either one of us, this particular room created on a whim, created for me, and it would create more than just work, it would set the faint stirrings of an affection to grow in my heart. 

That affection would have plenty of time to be nurtured, month after month following of small little moments that it built upon. And with each of those moments I saw past the beast, saw to the man AND the heart that still existed inside the Dark One. I saw Rumple, saw the dangerous, manipulative man of power that could and did do evil things, but still retained enough of his heart to have the odd moment of kindness. And to have it for ME. 

My affection would feed off his kindness, off the gifts and the stolen looks. I'd listen to his stories, the tales of his long and intriguing life, of the people met and the deals made, and share my simple dreams in return. I hadn't lived even a quarter of the life that Rumplestiltskin had, and as a sheltered princess I had barely lived at all. As a princess my life had been boring, mapped out for me from the day that I had been born. Betrothed to a man I hadn't loved, who had cared more about elevating his status and reputation with our marriage and the children I would give him, it was not until I was forced into servitude, that I had truly come alive. 

I had been happy then. Happy and infatuated, and veering closer to love. I admired and respected Rumplestiltskin, was in awe of him, of his power, and of the kind of man that he was. The Dark One was like nothing I had ever encountered, his tempered evil still a million times better than the worst brutes and bullies of my father's court. There was a purpose to his sins, Rumplestiltskin never torturing just for the fun of it. He made deals and punished those who broke them, but rewarded those who didn't. Yes, he could and was scary, but it wasn't terror that I felt. Instead I thrilled to the danger of him, actually reveled in the fact there was a side to the Dark One that Rumplestiltskin showed only to me. I embraced the darkness, and came away in love with the man, That should have, WOULD have been enough, if not for the evil queen's interference. 

My eyes now veer towards her reflection in the mirror, Regina appearing distracted and sullen. She hasn't noticed my staring, too lost in thoughts of her own. I should be grateful for that, for the quiet it gives the car ride but I am not. It's oppressive, the guilt and accusations that go unspoken in the silence. I can't bring myself to glance at the driver, to glance Emma's way. but I know she is upset, that she disapproves of what has happened. I know she must have a hundred questions at least, and I brace myself for the moment when she will finally ask them. It doesn't come now, but I know it will not be put off forever, that the town will not always be in a danger that will distract Emma from prying. 

I feel partially to blame for the danger, for failing to be that which can save both the town and Rumple from Zelena. My cheeks burn with shame, and I go back to staring out the window to my side. I am worrying about what will come, what will happen when it becomes apparent to Regina and the others that I'm not here to kiss Rumplestiltskin, but to talk and buy the others time. 

But most of all I worry for Rumple, for what he might be waiting for me to do. I can't bear the thought of hurting him, can't stomach the pain of my betrayal, of my kiss failing to be true. Hook's words whisper through my head, that mocking certainty that he is right, that I don't love Rumple, that I can't given what I have done, what I have continued to do. It's not just the sex that is the betrayal, it's my feelings, that twisted, torn up need that I have for Hook that haunts me even now. It makes me remember, divides my thoughts in two. I should be thinking about Rumple, about the love we had once shared, about the affection I still have for him, that warmth that maybe I could rekindle into something more. 

Instead I remember Hook, the determined look in his eyes just before we had joined Neal and the others in the front of the shop. I remember more than that, the way that he had acted, both trying to protect and control me, and the effect that had had on making me feel. It confuses and embarrasses me, and if I am honest, there is a part that thrills to the idea that Hook would care at all. It doesn't stop the next doubting voice, the snide whisper that says Hook just doesn't want to lose his plaything any time soon. 

My eyes water, and my fingers clench on my lap. The dig of my nails into my soft palm is a pain that holds back the worst of my tears, and now I am glaring at the forest scenery that the car passes by at a fast clip. It's no short drive to Zelena's, her witch's lair located on the far outskirts of town. It leaves plenty of time for talk, or it would if anyone was in the mood, my thoughts instead veering wildly in the silence. I try to keep them focused, try to stay centered on Rumple and the love I had once been so sure of. Hook remains on the outskirts, a dark, attractive shadow that still distracts me to this day, that mocks and destroys my love, a love I had known once to be true. I had seen it with my own eyes, had felt the proof in the magic that had tingled between our lips. That first kiss HAD been magic, Rumple's skin rippling with an attempt to change. The dark curse had fought it, had fought it's breaking, and I think if Rumple himself hadn't panicked, so much would have been different. The queen's schemes, Hook's revenge, my own betrayal of that love, most likely none of it would have happen, Rumple and I HAPPY. 

Or so I tell myself. It's not Hook's voice alone that casts doubts in my head now. Back then, there had been so much I hadn't understood, Rumplestiltskin open about so much except the truth surrounding his son and the boy's mother. One lost, the other dead, Rumple hadn't been about to give up on the boy, and Hook would have still sought his revenge, regardless of what state Rumplestiltskin had existed as. It was these factors as much as anything else, that left Rumplestiltskin loathe to abandon his power as the Dark One, that would have kept him from truly achieving a happy ending with me. He may have been in love with me, but he had also loved his son and his magic, needing that power to safeguard the things, the people most valuable to him. He would have resented me, resented the love that we shared, the pure magic that would have stripped him of that which made Rumple the man he now was. 

My eyes now open to what I hadn't known back then, I can grasp a total understanding of Rumplestiltskin's anger, of why he had lashed out. At me and at true love, the man not trusting, not able to believe. Scared of it, scared of me, it was for his own good that Rumple had sent me away. That and his reaction, his denial of my love, had been devastating, and it had sent me careening out of control. Instead of returning to my kingdom, to my father and fiancee, to the life I had thought lost, I became little more than a vagabond, wandering from village to village. I lost myself to drinking at the more reputable taverns I could find, heart sick and bitter, but not having lost my feelings of true love. 

In tatters but not broken, I even fit in time for an adventure or two. The hunt for the yowagi, some manner of beastly monster terrorizing a village, would ultimately renew me, would restore my faith in love and happy endings, but also bring back my courage and self confidence, the strength to believe in myself and the life that I had wanted. Determined to go after it, after him, and still not understanding even half of what had motivated Rumplestiltskin, it was the evil queen who had disrupted my plans. Her capture of me, the months of imprisonment that followed, played their part well in my breaking, my spirit, my heart suffering. In that cold, dank, colorless room, I wilted, waiting for a rescue, while wondering why, each day taking more of my hope, as Rumplestiltskin failed to appear. 

What I perceived to be Rumplestiltskin's total abandonment, the bleak, solitary future I was fast coming to believe was all that was left to me, was all that was needed to render me vulnerable to Hook and his sudden arrival. Cutting a dark, dashing figure, I had barely been able to believe my eyes, Hook's smile the first to be given without malice to it, a dark warmth in his eyes that been quick to smolder as he looked at me. 

Sensing I was soon to be free, it was not the anticipation of it that had me sitting up straighter at Hook's approach. What felt like butterflies had stirred in my belly, that smile of his rendering me light headed. Even Rumple had never looked at me with that dark open hunger, his eager lust growing, exploding when I licked at my dry lips nervously in response. Hook had zeroed in on that nervous gesture, his smile becoming something wolfish. I'm sure he had said something to me then, but the dizziness that I had felt, the surreal feeling that had hit me, had left me unable to focus on his words, my body breaking out into a fever, trembling with excitement as one strong and steady hand had touched my wrist. 

I think I might have gasped, feeling something spark at his touch. Hook had felt it too, his eyes widening ever so slightly. I stared at him as the man bent over me, as he used his hand and his hook to pick the locks of the chains on my wrists. That hook of his didn't frighten me, my senses too taken with him. I breathed in the scent of him, leather and spice with an underlying hint of sweat and blood from his recent excursions. Having fought his way to me, my right hand once free, had brought my shaking fingers to touch at the blood on his sleeve. Worry had filled me over the perceived injury, but at that touch, the warmth that I felt of another human being, had brought tears to my eyes. 

He had preyed on even that, quickly freeing my left hand, then pulling me against him. Holding me in a facsimile of comfort, his good hand had run over the back of my tangled hair. That touch on my hair, the strong arms around me, it had been sensory overload to a body starved for attention of any kind. I had been the one to then press further, to lift up my head from where it had rested on his shoulder. With tears of gratitude glistening in my eyes, I had moved to kiss him, to give expression to what I had been feeling, the relief, the joy, and the appreciation that he had set off in me. 

Overcome as I had been, it hadn't been a chaste kiss I had intended. But neither had I meant for it to be a total devouring. But like kindle to a flame, the kiss had ignited instantly, our lips burning with a need that I don't understand still to this day. 

Like all the other times that would follow, it hadn't stopped with a kiss. I shift in my seat in the back of Emma's yellow colored car, the memory both uncomfortable and titillating. My thighs squeeze tighter together, the arousal flickering to life within me. I curse Hook then, and I hate myself, despising that even the memory of the pirate can affect me so. He makes me unfaithful to Rumple in so many ways, and my sin is made worse that it's not just my body, but my heart and my thoughts. 

Shaking in my seat, my nails dig hard enough to draw blood from my palm. That sharp bit of pain doesn't help with the desire, but it keeps me from turning in my seat, keeps me from peering out the back window at the car that follows close behind us. Hook's back there somewhere, and I don't trust myself or him. No to be alone together, and not the sudden acceptance he had displayed, Hook giving in surprisingly quick to the plan that Emma and I intended. He's planning something himself, but what I can't imagine, too mentally and emotionally exhausted to even try to get inside Hook's head. 

It hasn't been the easiest of days, the stress of our relationship drama, the jealousy and the worry, the hurt and the confusion, draining me near to my limits. I'm running on empty, tired and afraid, unable to do what is really needed. Its not just the kiss, but my betrayal, my inability to see past my unfaithfulness to find and rediscover the love I had once had. I don't hate Rumple, I can't, but Hook is right when he says I am not in love with the man either. But I'm not in love with Hook, I don't think I even like him. I feel none of the warmth, the affection that had grown, the fondness and friendship that I have STILL for Rumple. I care for him, I like him, and I value Rumple's place in my life. 

Dear as he is to me, it's not romantic what I feel. It hasn't been for a long time now, and I've been a fool for lying to him and to me. I can't stomach what I've done, what I've cost us both, and if Rumple gives me even half a chance, I'll spend my life trying to make it up to him. I'll be whatever he needs, friend, lover, companion, even slave. Anything I'll do, from the lowest of the low, if it means I'll have repented for my sins. 

That determination falters when I get my first sight of the witch's house. The nervous feeling inside me increases, my anxiety leaving me nauseous. I'm sure all color has fled from my face, and I am forced to take several deep, steadying breaths before I can nerve myself to get out of the car. Hook looks towards me, actually takes a step forward before being stopped by Emma. 

"Cool it, Romeo." She mutters it softly. "We need to secure the perimeter first, make sure Zelena is not here." 

"I don't see a car." Robin says, his cross bow armed and at the ready. 

"Not that that means much when magic is at play." Regina points out, but she quickly turns away when Robin looks at her. There's something going on there, something unexpected, something that had played a part in who went in which car before coming here. I'd wonder about it more, about the queen's attempt to maintain a coldness, if my own problems and fears weren't so distracting. 

"Wait here." Emma tells it to me and to Regina. "We're going to do a check of the house." 

"Make it quick." Advises Regina. "Who knows for how long Zelena will be gone." 

"Let's just hope she doesn't have the dagger glued to her side now that she knows we're on to her." added Neal with a grimace. "There's no telling what she'll make my father do to us..." 

"Well, isn't that why she's here?" Regina asked, nodding towards me. "To kiss him free of his curse and his power...." 

"She's not going to be breaking any curses today." Emma says in a curt dismissive manner. She doesn't meet anyone's eyes, too busy scanning the area for any signs of danger or of the witch's return. 

"WHAT?!" Regina snarls in disbelief. "Then why are we even here?!" 

"I must admit, I am now wondering that too..." agreed Robin Hood. "I thought the whole point was to remove the threat that was the Dark One in the only way that we could." 

"It's not that cut and dry." Emma says, while the breath gets stuck in my throat. I feel as though I am suffocating, as though I might fall down, fearing Emma is about to reveal what she had discovered, what she had witnessed with her own eyes. My guilt and fear drive me to glance at Hook, my nervous, frightened gaze meeting his calm darkness. He's not bothered one bit by what Emma may be about to reveal, might actually be enjoying the idea of it. 

"Of course it is!" Regina's hands are on her hips. "We have the greatest magic there is when it comes to breaking curses. Belle and Rumplestiltskin will share true love's kiss, which will put an end to the Dark One and the witch's control over him." 

"And then what?!" Emma demands. "Taking the Dark One out of the equation, won't guarantee us a victory against that witch." 

"It'll even the grounds though..." suggests Robin, while Regina still scoffs. 

"Without her controlling the Dark One, I'll wipe the floor with her remains." 

"Maybe, maybe not...." Emma cautions over Regina's hiss. "We don't know how powerful Zelena is on her own. Even without the Dark One, she may stand a chance of winning....Which is why I think we need Gold...we need him and his magic on our side." 

"So we go off on a wild goose chase, searching for a dagger that may not even be here?!" Regina demands. 

"It's the only thing we can do at the moment..." Emma glances my way. "Belle, are you ready?" 

"Ready for what?" Regina is exasperated and it shows. "Why is she even here then?!" 

"I've got to talk to Rumple." I say, ignoring Regina who sputters and snaps that I can talk to him after this is all over. "I might be able to find some things out, such as what Zelena's ultimate plan is for Mary Margaret's baby, what she even wants. But more than that.....I can be a distraction." 

"A distraction?" Robin asks, and Hook lets out an unhappy sound. I fear he is going to start protesting again, and make a scene that cannot be easily explained away. 

"Rumple would NEVER hurt me." I speak quickly, Hook still grumbling unhappily under his breath. The look he gives me is angry, Hook doesn't like one bit what I am saying, or what I am going to do. "If the witch has some sort of failsafe on him, I CAN buy you lot the time needed to find the dagger, or even just to get away." 

"We're not leaving without you!" Hook snaps, the other men and Emma quickly agreeing. 

"You won't have to." I say with false confidence. "But we're wasting time...." 

"She's right, we are." Regina sides with me. "Go...do what you have to. Belle and I will be ready as soon as you know that the house is empty." 

"Right." 

The others move into action, and it's only Hook that hesitates. He looks straight at me, frowning with the weight of what he has to say. "Belle, I...." 

"What are you standing around for?!" Regina interrupts, clearly annoyed. "You have a dagger to help find!" 

Hook blinks slowly in response, as though he had needed that reminder. I have a bad feeling as a smirk creeps in at the edge of that sensual mouth of his, the look in his eyes no less determined than before, but with a darkness there that makes me uneasy. I shiver with the uncertainty that he is up to something more, but before I can ask or try to caution him away from it, Hook is bowing in mock regard to the queen. 

"As her majesty commands." Hook says, then takes off running to catch up to the others. I'm left with Regina, my already monumental unease increasing, my anxiety such that I am close to panicking. Regina doesn't notice, too lost to her own thoughts that don't deter her from complaining about blonde headed saviors and half thought out plans that are destined to fail. She's wrong though. It's not Emma she should be mad at, and it's not the savior who will be at fault if things do go bad. It's me, I did this, I caused this mess, and it will be on me if Rumple hurts someone on Zelena's command. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

To Be Continued....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't advance to the part I thought...thought the Belle and Rumplestiltskin in the shed scene would have happened this chapter. I also did find time to research watch, and ended up watching a lot more of that particular episode. (Certainly more than I had intended.) So yay for that! 
> 
> I had a little trouble getting the chapter started..something like 20-30 attempts...it started to flow when wrote all that stuff about Robin and Belle. So yay! 
> 
> Not much to say this time around. I did finally write up a new summary for this fic, one that hopefully fits it better as this story has developed. :) I'm also hoping after I post this chapter (Still got to spell check and proof read!) to go fix the Zelena name error in chapter one. Wish me luck or something! 
> 
> \----Michelle


	11. Eleven

It takes the others time to secure the house, enough of it passing that I grow impatient, sick with unease and my worry, my guilt and my fear. I just want it to end, want all the upsetting thoughts and feelings to stop. The continuous onslaught of them is almost enough to leave me unafraid, to keep me from fearing what will happen should my secret, my betrayal be dragged out into the town's open. The gossip and the scorning, the pitying looks that I have feared, none of it can be equal to the amount of pain and self recrimination that I already feel, my life in shambles, almost ruined, my morals and my heart called into question a million times over and by me. 

I'm gearing myself up to be ready to accept the town's scorn, my fall from grace a certainty that I have earned. I actually warm to the thought, deeming it a much needed penance. I all but groom myself to play town pariah, actually come close to opening my mouth to confess all. I actually turned towards the distracted queen, Regina vibrating with a hostile tension that has her glaring at the witch's house. 

"What is taking them so long?" She asks, and the moment, my self determination is dashed. The courage flees me, as does the certainty, that fleeting sense that had come borne on the heels of thinking that everything out in the open would somehow be better than what I have now. It won't, it can't, because it won't just be myself that I hurt but Rumple. I acknowledge that now, think of the pain and humiliation to have his true love proved false and in front of so many people. Worse than false but unfaithful, and with Hook of all people, no other man as bad as choice for hurting Rumple than the pirate. 

It's not myself that I am moving to spare, and it is not just myself that will bear the brunt of the town's laughter and disapproval. The people here, the many Rumple has helped hurt, will relish the idea of it, of the fool I have made of the Dark One. I can't do that to him, can't make him hurt worse for what I've already done. The pain of what I will put him through versus what the town will do, kills the confession on my lips. Regina doesn't notice, doesn't even appear aware that I had tried to speak. She's simply too self absorbed, whatever it is, a secret that I am not privy to. 

It can't be any worse than my own. How can it possibly be? She's not the one who abandoned true love, not the one who cost herself everything with a moment's bad decision. It's not that I think myself better or worse than the infamous evil queen, but that I think she wouldn't understand anything about love, about the having it, or about the turning your back on it. I had done both, and everything that came in between, the lists of my heart's sins lengthy, and fit to only be judged by the one I had hurt the most. 

The one that I am still hurting, the man that is the judge and the jury of my lusts. I can't spare him forever, can't--won't keep the betrayal a secret from him for much longer. Even as I think to negotiate Emma's silence, I know I will finally have to be honest with Rumplestiltskin. About Hook, about us, about everything that has transpired. I pray I will have the courage, that the words won't fail me when the time is right. It's not yet now, and if our mission here today fails in any way, it won't be time for a long, long while if ever. 

But I can't think like that. Can't let myself wonder what will happen if something goes wrong and Zelena retains control of the dagger and Rumplestiltskin. I have to find the faith to believe in Emma and the others, to trust that they will prevail, and that they will do so today. That sort of positivity doesn't come easily to me, too much of my own failings suffusing me, making it easy to doubt, and to fear. It actually makes me startle in place, Emma's shout registering but the words are lost to my ears. The fear in me, I turn towards the Savior, who has come not out the front door of the witch's house, but some exit in the rear. 

"We're clear!" Emma says, and it's Regina's impatient voice that finally gets through to me. 

"Took you long enough." She is grumbling though I doubt Emma can hear it with the distance between us. I blink in response, shake the fog of negativity from me, pushing back all my worries and fears to focus on Emma and the words that she is screaming. 

"We're clear!" She repeats. "There's no sign of Zelena!" She is almost to me, before she calls out the most important words of all. "It looks like she is still keeping Gold in the cellar." 

I bolt into action at that, turning towards the cellar. It's built into the property's ground, and it's heavy doors' metal is rusted from the rain and years of neglect. But there's no lock on the doors, nothing to keep them from being pried open. My unsteady hands struggle with the weight of the doors, but I manage to pull them up and open. Sunlight tries to chase away the shadows that is the darkness below, and my heart cries out in protest at the thought of the witch leaving Rumplestiltskin down there to rot. 

With the sun lighting my way, I all but run down the concrete steps. My footsteps announce me, the hurried pounding of them loud and frantic enough that it should have alerted Rumplestiltskin to the fact it wasn't the witch who had come to see him. But he's not looking my way, hasn't even acknowledged that someone has entered his prison. Instead his back is to me, the man kneeling inside a cage that would barely give him enough room to stand. 

The cage shocks and leaves me outraged, my heart furious over the witch's inhumane treatment of him. The anger that fills me chases away just about everything else, the pain and my betrayals, until all I can focus on is Rumple. On how I feel about him, how I want to help him, how I want to hurt Zelena for doing this to him. I am fierce in the moment, strong with a cleansing righteous fury that leave me feeling a lot like I had on a night many years ago. That night had been the night I had defeated the yowagi, choosing to break it's curse rather than kill it, and thus saving a man and a village, and empowering myself in the process. That night I had been on fire, burning with a love and determination that hadn't yet gone defeated even as the evil queen had dealt me a crippling blow. 

Captured just seconds after, I had never gotten the chance to return to Rumple while in the cusp of my love. I'm aware and acknowledge the queen's role in my downfall, but the blame lies solely with me. I was the one who had kissed Hook, who had been affected by him, by his heat and the look in his eyes. I was the one who had slept with him, who had continued to have sex with him countless times after. The queen may have set me up to be in a position of vulnerability, but it had been my choice, my bad decision to make. 

But for a few moments I don't dwell on it. On Regina, on Hook, or on the true love that I had lost. I'm all for Rumple, for the feelings the sight of him and his shabby surroundings put in me, and it is those feeling that brings more tears to my eyes. I realize then that I both do and don't love him, the feelings I have more akin to the kind of caring feelings you'd have for a friend or family member. It's not a romantic love, and it's not sexual, but it is there all the same. There and striking me hard, that sudden, potent realization of it leaving me almost unable to breathe. 

"Rumple....!" It shudders out of me, a loud, hard feeling gasp of his name. I see how his body stiffens in shock, see how he hesitates, before slowly turning my way. 

"Belle?!" He's still on his knees, and I don't blame him. The cage barely looks tall enough for ME, and I've no doubt that if he stands he will have to crouch over to do so. More than ever, I want to get him out of there, and I fly that last distance to the cage. 

"I've come to free you!" I say, all of my and Emma's plans forgotten in the moment. I just want him out of the cage, just want him safe. I want to give him back more than the little bit of sunlight that filters in from above us, I want to give him back the world. 

"No, don't!" His shout borne of desperation, can't get me to stop. I reach the cage, and am already touching it, finding that this too is unlocked. It's something I should wonder about, something that is cause for worry, but in this moment I am beyond fearing the witch, and not thinking of traps. 

The cage and it's bars is nowhere as rusted as the cellar's doors had been, and the door soundlessly swings open with the lightest of touch. 

"Leave!" 

"Not without you." I tell him, and watch as Rumple repeatedly shakes his head no in a frantic display. 

"Leave!" He repeats and it's both a command and a plea. "You have no idea what that witch will make me do to you if she catches you here!" 

I actually laugh, and it's not a nervous or disbelieving sound. It is gentle, it is soothing, meant to reassure him of what I already know to be a fact. "You could never hurt me." 

"She has the dagger." He says in a despairing voice. 

"I'm not afraid." And in this I mean it, the one absolute certainty in my life being that Rumplestiltskin would never physically hurt me. 

"You should be." Bleak eyed and clearly in pain, Rumple again tries to get me to leave. I simply smile in return, that fond love that I have for him, showing in my every expression and act of trust. He cringes in return, actually scrambles backward in an awkward crawl when I try to step into his cage. 

"Rumple?" The bars brush the top of my hair, the cage cramped and confining. I go to take another step towards him, my arm extending, my hand reaching out for him. I keep one foot out of the cage, not so fool hearty as to trust in the door not sweeping close and locking behind me. "Rumple!" 

He's shaking all over, refusing to look directly at me, refusing to acknowledge the hand I hold out to him. "It's futile, it's futile"! Rumple moans over softly. "So long as she has the dagger, I cannot leave." 

"Yes, you can." I insist in a gentler tone of voice. "You just have to believe..." 

He doesn't appear to hear me, moaning and cringing just out of reach of my hand. "She'll make me hurt you...she'll make me hurt everyone...." 

"She'll make you do that regardless of if you stay or leave." I point out, my hand still extended towards him. 

"I know that!" He cries out in agitation. "Which is why you need to leave. Not just here, but Storybrooke." 

"I can't." I tell Rumple firmly. "I won't. And neither will any of the others. Not the townspeople, not the savior, not even your son." 

He lifts up to look at me then. "My son....?" I nod in reply. "Is he well?" 

"As well as can ever be, but he needs his father to be safe. We ALL do." 

He closes his eyes at that, and I swear that Rumple does that to hide the wetness now shining in them. My left hand grips the bars next to the open door, and I stretch out as far as I dare, the toes of my other foot almost crossing the threshold as I try to graze my fingertips against Rumple's arm. He snaps back violently at the mere brushing that I do, still so fearful, so afraid. 

"IF there's to be any chance of saving anyone, you need to defeat Zelena." He says. "You need to stop her before she...." 

"Before she what?" I ask. Rumplestiltskin's lips tremble with the effort he makes to speak, but no real words come out, just the half strained moan of a voice cut off. "Rumple?" It's with a new worry and urgency that I speak, and he's now at the furthest end of the cage. There's no hope of reaching him without stepping completely inside, and for a frustrated second I consider it. "Before Zelena does what? What does that witch intend to do? What does she want with Mary Margaret's baby? What does she want with all of us?" 

"It's...It's questions that I cannot answer." Rumple grits out with some difficulty. 

"Can't or won't?" I sharply ask back. 

He shakes his head, lets the frustration bloom in his eyes. It's an echo of what I feel, and colored with Rumplestiltskin's bleak despair. "Ask of me something else...." 

"What's more important than that?!" It's more than a little crossly that I speak, but Rumplestiltskin takes no offense to my tone and exasperation. 

"Find the right question." He insists with a shake of his head. 

"The right question?" I frown. "What does that mean?" I get no real answer, Rumplestiltskin again moaning wordlessly. "Rumple....you told Emma and your son some things that they needed to know....why can't you so the same for me?!" 

"It's not the same, it's not the same at all!" 

"I don't understand, why isn't it the same?" I ask, and listen as Rumple grits out a strained answer. 

"It was different before." 

"Different..." I stand there quiet for a few seconds, mulling it over. What had been different, and when? Back in the enchanted forest, during the year that we all can't remember? Or sooner? I frown even more, and as I mull over the possibilities, the likes of which include the dagger, the dark one's magic versus the saviors, it hits me, the answer. 

"Because you and your son were sharing a body?" He's tense, but Rumple nods slowly, closing his eyes for one second in relief. "Did Neal's presence inside you, somehow give you the ability to..to what...speak freely?" 

"That and more..." Rumplestiltskin croaks out, and I suddenly understand. Rumple had escaped the witch that one time, and that one time only because of Neal, because of the fact the two of them had shared a body. Neal's presence must had somehow affected his father, maybe even warped the magic within him, but to what extent I still didn't know. 

"Oh, Rumple." I say, and he finally smiles at me. It's tender and it's sad, and it's all the more heartbreaking for me to see. 

"Doesn't matter." He then says. "Emma Swan saved my son. I gladly pay the price for them both." 

But it wasn't just Rumplestiltskin who was paying it. The whole town would, Neal alive but in just as much danger as the rest of the people of Storybrooke. Emma had saved his son, but at the cost of the effect Neal's presence had had on his father, Rumplestiltskin now under the complete and total control of the witch, Zelena. 

It wasn't fair, and it wasn't right, and I again tried to physically reach out to Rumplestiltskin. "Rumple...take my hand. We'll find another way. Good WILL win over Zelena." He didn't react nearly enough for my liking, words tumbling out faster. "You won't hurt me, and you won't hurt your son....and maybe with the savior's power, we can somehow break the control Zelena has over you." 

"No...no...it doesn't work like that." Rumple insisted. "Save your energy and resources and find a different way." 

"A different way to do what? How can we stop Zelena?!" That damnable moaning, Rumple again unable to answer. 

"Rumple! What CAN you tell me?" 

"That the end of everything we hold dear is coming, and soon we won't even know it." It sounds very much like a contradiction to me, and I say so. 

"Rumple, that doesn't make any sense. How can we possible not know it?" 

"Won't remember what has never actually happened." He says in reply. 

"I don't understand." 

 

"I know, and for that I am sorry." He tells me with another sad smile. I stare at him a long moment, watching his agitation increase with every second that passes. "Belle..." 

I make a hushing sound, needing to think on what little he has said. The end is apparently coming, and there just might be a way to stop Zelena but Rumple was apparently bespelled to be unable to speak of it. It was very much feeling hopeless, my arm dropping down to my side. Rumple seemed to breathe easier at that, and I think he actually thought I was going to leave without him. 

"What are you doing?!" He cried out a second later, as I stepped into the cage completely. "Belle, no!" 

"There's always a way." I say, and I advanced on him with a look that is shrewd and determined. He stares at me afraid, fearing my intentions, my presence, my very nearness. There's no more room for him to evade me, but he puts up his arms to shield himself from the sight of me. Rumplestiltskin almost crumbles apart at my gentle touch, and I fall with him to the straw covered floor of the cage. 

"Rumple.." I am on top of him, and can feel as well as see how badly he is shaking. I think I might tremble too, staring down at the man I had once loved with a kiss that had been true. 

"Belle..." He moans, trying to twist away. My hands cup and caress the cheeks of his face, and I continue to stare down at him. I don't love him in the traditional way, and maybe I'll never reach that particular depth of feeling again, but I do care for him. As a friend, as a companion, even as family, Rumplestiltskin a man I admire. Even now when he's so scared that he's shaking, I admire, respect and am in awe of him. I know that he would never hurt me, that he loves me, and that he loves his son. And maybe together, the love that he feels, that strong depth of feelings, and the untraditional, unromantic love that I have for him will be enough. Because it's not always been a romantic kiss that has felt true love's power. I think of the savior, of the kiss she had shared with her dying son, and how that had been a love true enough to break a curse that had lasted for twenty eight years. 

I'm not thinking of deceiving him, not intending to make Rumple think I still love him in that way. The truth will come out, and it will be from my mouth that it is spoken. But before I hurt him in that way, before I ruin his image of me, I will free him. Like the Savior did with her son, Henry, I will break the dark curse that holds Rumplestiltskin in it's powerful sway. And no one, not Hook, not Zelena, not even my own self can stop me from doing it. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

To Be Continued....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm probably going to be babbling A LOT for this author's note. Sorry. So...okay I was procrastinating big time on writing this chapter. I was worried about the cellar scene...worried I'd either mess it up, or it will fall flat. Not sure I didn't do both still! *mortified look of worry* Also had trouble finding my opening lines for this chapter, like big time....Not happy with my ending line but it is where I wanted to stop the chapter. Yes I know, it's a cliffhanger kiss about to happen. ^^'' 
> 
> In other news, and this derailed me big time...remember how I mentioned in an earlier chapter this week, that Hook was trying to derail me big time, by whispering an idea in my head? Yeah, the idea expanded....and is coming alive in my head, and it had me so hyper excited, I could not calm down to write. The problem is, I can do both the original intent of this story and the new idea to a point, but then once a certain place is reached, the new idea, it would annihilate any chance of the original idea. I'm nowhere near that point yet though, but I AM SO conflicted on what story route I am gonna ultimately go with. I have them both written down though...worried I'll get lynched for one route over the other too! ^^'' But the idea that exploded in my head yesterday while I was trying to reread chapter 10, OMG! I'm actually considering it....to write two version of the story from that point on. But we'll see. 
> 
> If I do go with my urgings to do the second route...damn I'll have to probably update the summary yet again! ^^'; But then again...not sure how to update the summary without spoiling something major....Oh dearie dear dear! 
> 
> I'm off to spell check and proof read now!  
> \---Michelle


	12. Twelve

She's so brave. That's just one of the many thoughts that I have as I look at her, Belle's expression determined, the look in her eyes not faltering, her faith in Rumplestiltskin unwavering. She actually believes, actually trusts that monster to not hurt her. She believes in the love that he has for her, believes in it's power to keep her safe. She's wrong though, they all are. No matter what they might think they know of him, I know best the Dark One's true nature. I know of the weakling, the scared cringing coward AND the revenge minded monster who hadn't even hesitated to strike down the last woman to have betrayed him. He had loved her too, had loved Milah with everything his cowardly heart had been capable of, and she had still died. Murdered by his own hand, by his rampant jealousy, Rumplestiltskin is not capable of letting go. Not of Milah, not of his own son, and certainly not of a treasure like Belle. He'd see her dead first, destroy any chance of her happiness, of her light and her love being given to another. 

Its the key difference between us, the Dark One and I both very bad men. Capable as I am of doing a great many evils, I stop short of killing, of hurting a woman who has come to mean so much to me, and of hurting her in THAT way. It doesn't mean that I can be any less jealous, that I don't fan that feral aggression inside me, wanting to both own and to protect her, Belle that vital something I've gone too long without understanding, unable to appreciate, unable to even acknowledge. It's a great many late blooming realizations that I've had this day, that I still continue to have, one epiphany after another hitting me, scaring me with what I may have lost. 

It is that, both the fears and the epiphanies, that weigh my heart down. That have me staring, my eyes not only drinking in Belle's surface beauty, but seeing past it, to the woman, to the brave, passionate soul inside. She's so fierce and determined, quietly enduring the weight of the world, of Storybrooke, of everyone's expectations. It leaves her staggered but not crushed, Belle a survivor of a hurt that is a million times worse. That hurt, the strain of it wreaks havoc on her slender frame, leaves her skin leeched of most of it's color. Belle is exhausted, tired of so much, maybe even tired of ME. I can't say I blame her, not after all I have done, all I have put her through. All I STILL put her through, Belle both frightened and wary as she looks back at me. It's like a slap to the face, her mistrust and her fear, Belle a bundle of raw hurt that I've no clue yet on how to soothe. 

But I want to TRY. I want to do more than just try, I want to set things right, am ready to dedicate an eternity to the attempt. I want to make it up to her, want to show as well as tell Belle what a fool I have been. I want that second and third and even fourth chance, want to make a go of it now that I am free of the madness that had once poisoned me. I want US, want more than the idea of it but the reality, no more stolen moments but instead everything out in the open. I want to be able to shout to the world, take pride in the fact that everyone knows, Belle mine and I hers. 

But more than that I want Belle SAFE. I want to take her from this place, from this town if need be. I want to put as much distance between us and it's problems, it's Savior and it's heroes, the trouble that they drag us all into. I want Belle out of danger, and I want the threat of Rumplestiltskin gone. 

The irony isn't lost on me. I want her safe, but it's a danger she MUST risk. The bait to our trap, the distraction that will buy us all the time needed to locate the dagger, Belle HAS to go in alone to face Rumplestiltskin. The very idea of it I rebel against, a cold fear surging through me, the worry lodging itself in my throat. I look at Belle and I can't help but wonder if this will be the last time I get to see her, if instead it will be Mila all over again. 

It makes me hesitate when every second wasted is precious. But I feel as though I can't leave, can't go without telling her. My feelings, my deepest regrets, it all wants to come out, the words bubbling in me, giving rise to my tongue. I need to apologize as much as I need to reassure her, Belle mattering more than Emma had ever. 

"Belle, I..." 

I don't get to finish. Hell I barely get to start. The queen is snapping irritably at me, her loud snarling disapproval swallowing up and drowning out my words. She's not the audience I want for such a conversation, and Regina's not the type to tolerate any delays and distractions. We're all just tools to her, Belle, myself, the savior, and the others. More villain than not, Regina is only out for herself and for her son Henry, and THAT more than her words, is what I take to heart. 

I can't stop the smirk, can't stop the darkness from creeping into my determined gaze. The queen and I are not so different in intent, both of us having someone we want to protect. It's a driving desire, the need to safeguard that which is most precious, that can and will lead us to do our worst. I won't hesitate any more than Regina or Rumplestiltskin would, I can't, Belle's safety, her life, and our future at stake. I'm more certain than ever that it's all dependant on my actions, on what I must ultimately do. The dagger needs to be found, and to be found by ME. Only myself, and to a lesser extent the queen, have the stomach and fortitude to do that which is ultimately needed. Only the two of us will see the necessity of it, the others stalling, actually burdened by the memory of that monster's last sacrifice. It will be the excuse that they give themselves, lying that he's changed, that he deserves another chance. They'll keep on thinking that right up to the point that Belle is laying crumpled at his feet, that noble heart of hers crushed to a fine powder by his unforgiving fist. 

I won't let that happen, won't let him crush the heart of another good woman. I'll do what I have to, hurt who I need to, and maybe one day SHE can forgive me. I don't look to Belle in that moment, don't let the thought of her anger, of her future hurt and confusion, stop me from what I'm planning. Nothing can, not even the idea of her hate, not when I do this for Belle's benefit as much as, if not more than for my own. 

I then give the queen a mocking bow in return, speak words that are laced with a cheeky kind of insolence. The queen frowns at me, Regina hardly amused by my lack of respect but before she can say anything more or even threaten me, I take off running. The others have a bit of a head start on me, but I know until the house is secured, until it has actually been confirmed that the witch is not there, no real searching can begin. 

Emma and the others have already entered inside the house, by the time I reach it's front door. Someone has made quick work of it's two locks, and a part of me can't help wonder if it was Robin's expertise at work here, or if Neal has learned a few new tricks since leaving Neverland. But the answer to that doesn't really matter, not in the grand scheme of things. I've a woman to save, a future to secure, and I'll accomplish none of it if I don't get a move on. 

Determined as I am, it's still a cautious step I take forward, waiting to see if the witch's magic will strike me down. Nothing happens, and I grow braver, creeping forward and listening for sounds. I hear the faintest sound of footsteps, a noise that might just be coming from above me. A door on the first floor creaks open, and I realize the three that have gone on ahead of me have split up. On one hand I admire their nerve, and the quick efficiency they show at checking the house. But the other finds them fool hardy, a united front so much better for minimizing risks when it comes to bearding a witch of any kind in her own lair. 

It's a cozier lair than I had expected, a downright homey feel to my surroundings. Furnished in the style of this modern world, there's nothing to outwardly betray the witch or her magic. There's not even a tingle of it in the air, not so much as a surreal flicker of a spell. Is it because Zelena still tries to hide her true nature, or is it because the Dark One in her possession is all the failsafe she needs, to protect her wicked ambitions? I fear it's the latter, fear what will happen should the dark one awaken. I'm not scared for myself or for the others, but for Belle, for what may happen to her if her presence alone is not enough of a distraction. 

That fear urges me to hurry and would render me to be careless. It takes a concentrated effort to subdue the worst of that fear's impulse, my skin prickling with unease, the back of me burning with the possibly paranoid sense that someone is watching. But when I turn there is no one, not the witch or the savior, or the two thieves. There is however a small statue, some kind of demonic looking cat whose emerald eyes glint with real menace. There's something about those two emeralds, something familiar though I cannot place what. They don't distract from the most important part of the statue, the fact that it's small body is just long enough to possibly house the dagger. 

The statue is the first thing I destroy at Emma's shout. I watch it smash against the thinly carpeted floor, watch the black dust that stirs up from it's ebony remains, but there's nothing there aside from the emeralds. I feel a real disappointment to have been foiled, and yet it's not entirely what I haven't expected. It would take a luckier man than me to find the dagger on the first try, and I hold in my sigh. 

The all clear given at Emma's shout, the house is now alive with sound. Neither Neal nor Robin Hood being at all quiet with what they are doing. More things smash to the ground, and I too add to the mess we are making of Zelena's home. My sharp hook tears into every cushion, feathers and stuffing tossed everywhere. I am tearing apart her pillows, her couch, breaking every lamp, every kick knack that is big enough to hide the dagger inside. From the kitchen I hear Robin, the man rattling pots and pans, breaking apart jars, and over turning drawers. There's even the crash of metal that is the kitchen's cutlery, Robin searching through the mundane every day knives and forks and coming up empty for all his efforts. 

I hear something hit the floor, the ceiling above me muting the worst of the sound. Then the noise repeats itself, and my curiosity drives me upstairs to discover Neal in what passes for the witch's library. Some of the many books are already on the floor, and the man doesn't have to explain for me to guess at what he's doing. Neal's checking each and every individual book, looking for one that might be a hollowed out facsimile that could possibly hide the dagger. That he hasn't found it yet is a source of frustration, Neal angry and frantic, muttering a great many things--half of which are curses, under his breath. 

An open door just across from the library, brings me into the witch's bedroom. Zelena's taste is a little more indulgent here, silk green bed sheets, and expensive black lace curtains, beaded emerald colored tassels, and a large, ornate mirror with a ebony polished frame. There's a jewelry box on a dresser, and it's already open, opals and emeralds gleaming next to an array of bottles and powders. I am cautious as I approach what looks like her makeup supply, not trusting that the powders aren't magic, that the perfumes aren't potions, and that the clear color lotions not some kind of poison. 

Careful not to disturb even one bottle, I began pulling out and overturning each of the dresser's drawers. Even her underwear looks expensive, the dark green and black fabrics now a wrinkled pile on the floor. There's not much more than shoes and clothing in her closet, and I take a twisted satisfaction in ripping apart several of her dresses. Something thumps to the floor, a key discovered hidden amongst a gown's corset. I carefully pick it up and pocket it, wondering if somewhere in this house, there is a door it fits into. 

I hear a sound come from behind me, a groan and a thump. I rush out of the closet, only to find that Neal has finished with Zelena's library. I don't share with him my findings, don't offer to help him with his upheaval of the bed. The mattress ends up half of it's frame, and two flat, rectangular boxes are unearthed beneath it. Neal quickly pulls them free, take apart the white cardboard and finds a hat in one, and a pair of black silk, elbow length gloves in the other. 

I make a show of tearing apart the bed and it's pillows, stuffing bleeding out as I carve open the center of the mattress. I don't expect to find more than the metal springs inside it, and in that the witch doesn't disappoint. Still I can see how disheartened that leaves Neal, the man beginning to feel how hopeless a quest this might be. I keep quiet about the key in my pocket, and make no attempt to lift up his spirits. It suits me just fine if Neal were to give up, and would actually leave me with just Robin downstairs to contend with. I can hear by all the crashing and thumping that the thief is still at it, still tearing about the house. By the sound of it, he'll soon be inside the walls, tearing apart the house's very foundation in an effort to find the dagger. I can do no less, the key in my pocket belonging to something, a door or a chest, and I just had to find it. 

I don't get the chance. I'm passing by a window that's been smashed open, when I hear it. a woman's scream amidst all the noise that Robin is making. My blood chills at the sound of it, at the sheer panic, the terror that the woman gives voice to. I can't see what is going on, this part of the house positioned in such a way that gives off a great view of the green apple tree but leaves me blind to everything else. I can see neither the back yard, nor the front where the cellar doors lay, fueled by a panic that steals away all clear headed thought, the terror inside me giving voice to an answering scream. 

"Belle!" 

The scream that roars out of me rouses Neal from the floor. I'm already halfway down the stairs by the time the man is out on the second floor's landing. He doesn't ask me what is going on, maybe hadn't even heard Belle's scream over the noise that Robin had been making. But he's heard mine, and he's seen my reaction, and that alone is enough, Neal shouting to Robin as I race through the downstairs of the house. 

I'm so scared for her that I am not thinking. So scared I've momentarily forgotten the search for the dagger. There's no thought in my head for the fact that I need it, that the dagger is the only thing that can be used to stop the Dark One dead in his tracks. It's all animal need, an instinct to protect the woman that I care for, that drives me forward. I don't hesitate, rushing headfirst into danger, intent on protecting, on saving Belle with nothing more than my fist and my hook to defend her. 

She screams a second time, and it's louder now. I burst out the front door of the house just in time to see Belle scrambling up on her hands and knees, basically crawling up the last two steps of the cellar. She's so pale and frightened, actively crying, falling once before lurching upright to scramble to safety. There's nothing but darkness behind her, the shadows of the cellar swallowing up even the sunlight. Those coiling tendrils of inky blackness are not idle, snaking out of the cellar, snapping at Belle's heels. One actually tries to wrap around her ankle, and its only a fireball that severs it's intent. 

Something other than Belle and the danger that she is in, registers. I hear the queen's voice, hear Regina snapping at Emma, telling her to put that pistol away, that's it's not bullets but magic that is going to save the day. The queen is only half right, for it's a certain kind of magic that is needed, and it's one we don't yet have. And maybe we'll never, Belle's attempt at a distraction failing, none of us a step closer to the dagger. 

And then I am there, reaching for Belle. My fingers close around her wrist, and then I pull her past a defense that is actively bickering, Regina glaring at Emma rather than at that growing mass of darkness. She's got fireballs aglow in each hand, and expects the savior to do the same. Emma seems loathe to put away her gun, ignoring Regina's needling as she stares at the darkness. 

"Hook, I don't suppose you've come with the dagger....?" 

I don't answer, too focused on Belle. Too aware of her shaking, and the ice cold feel of her skin. She's openly crying, sobbing with her terror, ready to sink into my embrace, and it's all I can do to NOT hold her. But I'm aware of the creeping darkness, and of the monster that hides within it, Rumplestiltskin a big enough threat without me giving him further provocation. It is with the greatest of reluctance that I push Belle behind me, shielding her with my body as I brace myself for what comes next. 

"Hook!?" Emma again, and that exasperated sound can't hide the savior's own fright. There's very few people that can face off against the dark one, and even less that can do so without fear. I think even the queen is worried, though she'd never admit to it. She flings another fireball at the darkness, while muttering something about being surrounded by incompetents. 

"What happened down there?!" 

"It was a trick!" Belle cries out, her fingers having found purchase on my arm. I feel her trembling form press against my back, feel her clinging to me for a comfort that I cannot yet give. "Zelena..." Her voice broke on a sob. "Zelena was toying with us from the start!" 

"Still think it's not a good idea to have her kiss Gold free of his curse?!" I growl in response to what Regina sarcastically asks Emma, and hear the soft gasp that Belle lets out behind me. I can't tell what that gasp means, can't tell if she's frigthened of the idea, or if Belle has already tried to do exactly that and failed. 

I don't get to ask. The cellar itself seems to explode, one of the doors shooting up into the sky. The darkness remains, and in the heart of it comes the sound of slow, menacing footsteps. Each step against the concrete stairs is like a hammer falling, and it feels like an eternity passes, before the Dark One emerges from the cellar. He takes his time, or so I assume, my hate such that I at first don't notice the odd, wooden way that he moves. Like he's fighting every step of the way, his odd broken movements very much like a reluctant puppet on a sting. 

He steps onto the grass, his arm lifting up to do something, An arrow slams into the turf, Robin having arrived to fire off a warning. Rumplestiltskin steps down onto the arrow, let's it snap and crumble apart under his foot. He looks at us, and his eyes have gone all black like the shadows that trail out of the cellar. 

"Zelena sends her regards." He says, and with a wave of his arm, Emma and Regina go flying back. I hear Neal scream out the savior's name, and watch as Robin waste arrow after arrow as he inches his way towards the fallen queen. I want to scream at Rumplestiltskin, to ask him just what it is that that witch wants, but more than that I just want him gone. All the hatred that he inspires is alight in my expression, my lip curling as I growl. For once that hate isn't mirrored in the Dark One's expression, Rumplestiltskin more resigned than anything, as he points a finger at Belle and I. "Interfere again, in ANY way..." He says. "And I WILL kill you." 

"Rumple!" Belle protests with a moan. 

His eyes try to see past my body to the woman that hides behind it. And then the broken movement happens again, Rumplestiltskin taking time to point at each and every one of us. "I'll kill ALL of you." 

"Papa, no!" Neal cries out, his voice in his anguish making him sound more like the boy he had once been rather than the man he was now. 

"Damn it Gold, you've proven better than this!" Emma shouts from where she crouches on the grass. I hear Regina's answering groan, but the queen doesn't actually say anything in response to what Emma had just said. 

"Much as I hate to suggest it..." It's Robin who speaks now, and a glance his ways shows him down on one knee, hovering protectively over Regina. I don't know how badly she has been hurt, or if just that Regina's a little disoriented, but either way it's clear she won't be wielding her magic any time soon. "Perhaps a retreat is in order?" 

It's not the most liked of options, but right now it's the only one left to us. We're at an impasse otherwise, destined to die at Rumplestiltskin's hand whether we fight or whether we try to search for the dagger. The Dark One himself stands at the ready, the shadows itself an extension of his body. He watches us but makes no further move, making it clear that whatever Zelena is up to, she wants us all alive to witness it. She's toying with us like Belle had said, giving us a glimmer of hope that she revels in destroying. I don't know what Zelena's reasons are, and right now I don't care. In fact I think none of us do, too intent on running, on living to fight another day. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To Be Continued....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooh sleepy as I wrap this up. It's just after 5:15 am. X_X Didn't think I'd finish the chapter before bed but I got a burst of energy at the last possibly minute. Wondering if I have enough left in me to proof read and spell check, or if I should wait until after I get some sleep...*ponders* 
> 
> This is actually my second attempt at this chapter. The first attempt I tried on Saturday, and well it didn't capture the feelings that I wanted. It went right into the search for the dagger. I am much happier with how the second attempt shaped up, though it was a very slow writing process....I'm glad to have this chapter over and done with though! 
> 
> I'd probably ramble some more, but I am tired. I've noticed in my rereading, especially for ten and eleven, that there was more typos than usual. I've vowed to myself to reread through all the chapters (After I get some sleep) to try and find and fix as many of those mistakes as I can. Sadly no matter how often I fix it up, I always find a typo I have missed in my next reread. it really drive me up the wall insane. X_X 
> 
> Laters! 
> 
> \---Michelle


	13. Thirteen

The car's speed approaching eighty, Emma drove as though the darkness itself pursued us. It didn't, the Dark One's shadows coiling to a stop just at the edge of the driveway. Emma didn't slow the car in response, didn't so much as look back, her white knuckled grip making the car veer wildly on the road. The car in front of us didn't do much better, speeding, Neal taking a turn almost too fast. It made for a nauseating ride, my insides protesting in ways it had never before, not even during the worst of the storms that the Jolly Roger had once weathered. I never once screamed at Emma, never once asked for her to slow down, even as I knew there was no point to this panic, the darkness just waiting, lingering somewhere behind us in warning. 

We were being let go, and in this moment I didn't care for what reason or by who. Zelena or Rumplestiltskin, it didn't matter, the display of dark power behind us, that physical manifestation of shadows, putting real fear in us all. With all the mindless self preservation of animals we had fled, making for the safety of the town and it's people and knowing that even that was an illusion. There was no safety in numbers, just more targets for the witch and the Dark one to strike down, and we all realized that a war had been started, one we might not stand any real chance of winning. 

My throat made a furious sound then, a kind of harsh angry scoff as I recognized that the very real truth of that statement was that we had never stood a chance at all. Our search for the dagger already destined to fail from the start, had now become impossible, the Dark One himself now vigilant. His shadows didn't just linger in the driveway, they sealed off the property, swallowing up everything, the house and the cellar, and even the light. There would be no getting back in there, no chance to even try, and the key in my pocket was now useless! 

"We'll find another way." Emma said in response to the sound I had made. "We'll find a way." She repeated, as though Emma herself was the one who needed the convincing. I couldn't stop the harsh sound of laugher, my voice steaming with my anger. 

"I have been trying to find a different way for over three hundred YEARS." 

There was a flinch in response, and it wasn't just from Emma. Belle herself had reacted, the words and my voice stirring her awake from a disoriented slumber. She had faintly shortly after I had shoved her into the back seat of Emma's car, her terror and exhaustion finally pushing Belle past her limited reserves. We hadn't tried to wake her up, hadn't tried to do much more than make her comfortable. 

That comfort had included draping the woman across my lap, my arms hugging Belle's body as close to mine as was possible. Emma hadn't much liked what I was doing, but with the way the car was wildly veering, she hadn't spent much time to protest. Her eyes now briefly met mine in the mirror, the green still too panicked to properly give over to her anger and disapproval. 

"What the hell happened back there?!" She asked, and I laughed again, feeling Belle shift slowly against me. 

"Exactly what I thought would." I told her, then conceded. "More or less. I didn't really expect to be left alive once the Dark One awakened." 

"He let us go...?" Emma said it in such an uncertain way. 

"Him or the witch..." I retort. 

"Why would Zelena...?" 

"I don't know!" I snap back, and my anger is stronger now. I hold Belle firmly against me, hear the disoriented woman make a sound in protest, but my glare is all for Emma. I am so angry I could throttle the savior, blaming her for all that has happened, all that could have happened, my gut lurching at the thought of how close to the danger Belle had actually been. I could have LOST her, and in a way that was more permanent than any of the hurt I had done Belle while chasing after Emma.

"I don't know." I repeat it softer now, and Emma glances away. I don't know what emotion she sees on my face, but that green gaze hasn't missed the way I rub my cheek against Belle's hair. 

"I'm...I'm sorry." Emma says. "I didn't..." 

"Didn't what?!" I ask. "Didn't know it would turn so bad?" 

"You tried to warn me." She admits. 

"For all the good that it did..." 

"Belle wanted to TRY." Emma adds. "She wanted to save the town..." 

"She wanted to save HIM." I can't help the spark of jealousy I feel. I know that Belle isn't in love with Rumplestiltskin, but the fact that some part of her cared enough to still risk the danger, burned. It wasn't entirely irrational, the jealousy or the fear. I knew what Rumplestiltskin was capable of, knew what he did to his enemies, and especially knew what he did to those that he loved. I didn't want Belle anywhere near him, and I said as much out loud. 

"It's Belle's choice to make." Emma muttered, and this time my shout fully roused Belle from her disorientation. 

"I'll damn us all a dozen times over before I let her or you encourage any more of such foolishness!" 

A muffled yelp followed those words, Belle's action the exclamation that punctuated that sound. I don't know if she understood my words, or if it was the anger or the loud volume in which I had spoken, but Belle struggled wildly to get free of me. My jaw clenched in response to her efforts to try to break away, my arms already bandied so tight about her trembling frame constricting further. She made a sound of discomfort, of pain, but I didn't let go, holding her prisoner now against me. 

"Hook!" Snapped Emma, having taken note of Belle's wild efforts to get free. I ignored the Savior, holding onto the woman, her squirming, struggling form unable to slip free of my arms' cage. Fitful, wordless sound accompanied her movement, Emma half turning, the car moving with her actions, as she lashed out an arm towards me. 

"Keep you attention for the road!" 

"She can't breathe!" Emma shouted back, glaring at me for one second longer, before twisting back to face the front. A wild jerk of the wheel, just barely kept us from crashing into a ditch, the car groaning in protest, it's tires grounding gravel as Emma was finally forced to slow down. 

Her words then registered, a sheepish heat creeping into my face, as I shifted enough to allow Belle to pull up and away from where I had buried her face against my chest. She was red faced and panting, and taking great gasping swallows of air. She was so busy just breathing that Belle had stopped fighting, her fingers laying in limp grip on my arms. 

"Belle, are you okay?" Emma cautiously asked. When there was no response other than that heavy breathing, Emma called out to me. "Hook? Is she?" 

"She's alive." Is what I say, and the relief that then hits me is hitting harder than anything else has ever, the sucker punch to my chest making my arms tense in response. Belle manages to make a protesting half squeal amidst her gasping, and it's all I can do not to crush her against me. "She's alive." I repeat, and now I take time to truly study the state she is in. There's a tiny, miniscule gash just over one eyebrow, so sliver thin small it wouldn't have surprised me if it hadn't bled. There's a few pieces of stray straw caught in her hair, and the brown waves of curls are tangled from someone;s--the Dark One most likely, harsh grip. 

Her beautiful blue eyes are wide and open with panic, but amidst the terror is a great consuming sorrow. It's a guilty kind of hurt in her eyes, a kind of reluctant acknowledgement that I fancy is Belle's way of admitting that I had been right. My gloating is suppressed by the fear I still feel, the very real realization of how close I had come to losing her. In that moment I am just as furious with Belle as I am with any of them, my head bowing towards her, our forehead touching as I whisper a harsh recrimination. 

"You idiot." 

Something that looks like defiance flares to life in her eyes, but she doesn't actually argue against my words. Belle just seems to do a weary kind of sag in place, her body losing even more of that rigid tension. 

Emma comes off as loathe to interrupt, actually driving the car in silence for several long minutes. "Did....did you find out anything?" She finally asks, and Belle stiffens in response on my lap. 

"Yes." She says, then her voice breaks uncertainty. "No. I...I don't..." Belle closes her eyes, then shakes her head no. "Nothing useful...nothing that could really help." 

Emma is silent in response, the car slowing further. We are nearing the main roads that lead into what passes for civilization in Storybrooke, and Emma had explained to me once that there are rules when it came to driving. I find it interesting that the rules don't apply when no other cars are around, but I don't try to engage her. I'm too busy with Belle, too busy staring at her, holding her, in as much need for comfort as anyone else is. 

Belle stares back at me now, all the hurt emotion and confusion glistening in her blue eyes. There's threads of anger in there too, a defiance that doesn't lend credence to her whispered demand. "Let me go." 

"Never." I immediately say and mean it. I'm NEVER letting her go, and it's time Belle not only realize it but accept it. 

"Hook..." She says in response, teeth worrying at her bottom lip. The action draws my attention to it, a lingering glance caressing over the lip that she bites at. I want to be the one who abuses that lip, who bites and soothes it with my tongue. 

"Hook!" Belle snaps louder in response to the desire showing on my face. I can't help it, I smirk, not caring who sees, not caring that Emma is an angry eyed audience in the driver's seat of the car. 

"Cool it, Casanova!" Emma snaps, the car veering wildly in her distraction. I don't immediately break the kiss, my lips savoring the feel of the life and vitality trembling against me. Belle makes an unhappy noise, tries to push free of me and I don't actually let her. It's not until we're both breathless, that I stop, Belle left wide eyed and staring, her lips a trembling temptation still. 

Her hand then lifts, their fingers placed against the warmth I had left to linger on her lips. Her face then becomes stormy, Belle dropping her hand, the glare alight and bright in her eyes. 

"I don't know what game you're playing now." She hisses, and there's only a second where her gaze darts toward Emma. 

"No game." I say, and watch as Belle's brows draw together. She's studying my expression, frowning in response to the determined seriousness I had spoken with. That she doesn't know what to make of it is clear, Belle showing her confusion, and it's so cute and adorable that I want to laugh and kiss her at the same time. 

My chuckling makes her madder yet, Belle trying to turn away from me. I allow that much, pulling her against me so that her back is pressed against my front. My arms wrapped around her, relaxing when she does, a reluctant sigh escaping Belle, as the woman asks what the savior intends to do now. 

"I don't have a plan." Emma slowly admits. "Not yet. But I'll come up with something." She tries to sound confidant, but her voice is lacking a lot of it. "I'm the Savior after all..." 

Neither Belle nor I respond to that. The beauty doesn't seem to know what to say, and I keep quiet my own admittedly uncharitable thoughts about Emma and her vaunted status as the Savior of this town. I'm not believing in any chance of her winning, in any chance of the town and it's people being saved. I'm not believing in much of anything except my own schemes and my own dreams, and how to achieve them. 

The rest of the remaining thirty minute car ride is spent in relative silence. I don't even try to guess at what anyone else is thinking, too busy enjoying, too busy taking comfort in the feel of a very much alive and well Belle. She puts up with it with a smattering of drawn out sighs, and only truly renews her more vigorous protests when we start to approach main street. 

"Hook, PLEASE." Belle pleads, twisting enough to peer up at me with earnest blue eyes. 

"You'll be lucky if I don't CARRY you into that diner." I retort, my smile not softening the very real chance of my making good on that threat. 

Belle gasps in dismay, her cheeks taking on a healthy flush. "But everyone will see.....!" 

"Let them." I retort, watching the way that she frowns. Belle mulls over my words, over the meaning she thinks is ascribed to them. She's not happy with what Belle thinks she knows, the woman assuming the worst about me and my intentions. 

The cars pull up in front of the diner, and with the dinner hour fast approaching, the place is packed. I allow Belle to scramble off of me, but I don't let her get far, my hand possessive on the small of her back as I guide her towards David and Mary Margaret's table. 

"Good, you're already here." Emma says, and I figure Neal must have been the one to call them. 

David and Mary Margaret immediately stand up. "What have you found out?" The man asks, staring hard at his daughter. "Where's Gold?" 

The unsteady step Belle does in response to David's second question, has me forcibly guiding her to take the seat vacated by Mary Margaret. I put my hand and my hook on the back of it, in a conscious show of standing guard over her. 

"He's still...that is..." 

"He's still under Zelena's control, if that is what you are wondering." Regina speaks over Emma's stammer. The queen has no problem delivering the bad news that Emma couldn't. 

"What?" Mary Margaret gasps, her hands flying protectively to press over the round flesh that is her belly. 

"Don't worry, we'll find a way." Emma tries to reassure her mother. David is nodding, but he's not at all convinced either. 

"Vodka." Regina snaps at the diner's proprietress. "And keep it coming." She adds, as Granny begins pouring the shot. 

"Are you sure you should be drinking just yet?" Robin asks. "Given your...recent...mishap...?" 

"I'm not some delicate wilting flower that will let a little fall stop me for long." Regina tells him then downs the first shot. 

"It was a bit more than a fall..." Robin boldly points out, to which Regina slams the empty shot glass down on the counter. 

"Thank you for your concern." She bites it out forcefully. "But I am FINE. Just as I was fine before you manhandled me into the car." 

Robin doesn't cringe back from an attitude that has seen people dead for offenses both greater and less than his genuine concern for her. He actually seems to fight back a smile, the corners of his mouth twitching as he speaks. 

"You stumbled." 

"You try running in HEELS." She snapped back, and though the attitude remains, it doesn't feel like she is going to strike Robin down. At least not yet. 

"Belle..." She sits up straighter at Emma addressing her. "Did Gold say anything to you? You mentioned in the car ride over that he might have..." 

"Not anything we can use, I am sorrry." 

"But he DID speak to you?" David asks. 

"Yes..." Belle looks down at her lap. "He...He didn't make much sense. He couldn't." 

"Maybe he just didn't want to help." Regina muttered. 

"No, you don't understand." Belle protests with a glare aimed at Regina. "He couldn't. He can't say or do anything...." 

"He did plenty back at Zelena's..." Regina points out, while Belle tries to speak over her. 

"He can't do anything that the witch doesn't want." Belle explains. "Not now...not anymore.." 

"Any more?" I question sharply. "Do you mean that once he could have?" 

"Yes..." Belle looks at me, then casts a guilty, apologetic look towards the Dark One's son. "Neal, I am so sorry." 

"Sorry for what?" He asks. 

"She just doesn't want to be the bearer of bad news." A new voice interjects. It's the witch dressed in all her ebony and emerald finest, her lips smiling in a cruel manner. Everyone in the diner reacts to her sudden appearance, the other patrons of the place gasping, some inching away in a rightfully wary manner. 

There's the remnants of magic clinging to the smirking red's head's body, barely leashed spells that can and will do untold destruction if anyone makes the wrong move. But worse than the magic that crackles the air around her, is the silver dagger that she holds in her hand. The jagged blade that has a name carved into it. 

The sight of the dagger make several of us react, and out the corner of my vision, I noticed Robin quickly picking up and priming his cross bow. Regina had put down an unfinished shot, her own gaze alight with a wicked excitement. She gave off a bad vibe, as though she would attack Zelena, innocent bystanders be damned but it was the savior who tried to beat Regina to the punch. Emma actually lunged Zelena's way, and it was only Mary Margaret grabbing rough hold of her daughter's arm, that stopped the savior from unleashing chaos inside the diner. 

"No, Emma." Mary Margaret's voice was a harsh whisper. "Too many people will get hurt..." 

Emma still looked like she was contemplating going after Zelena, the witch smirking as she taunted the Savior with the dagger. "Listen to your mother, she's right." She then swept out both arms, gloved fingers keeping a tight grip on the dagger's handle as she brandished it at the innocent people in the diner. "Anyone, and I do mean anyone..." I let out a growl as she pointed the dagger at Belle, "Who tries to get in the way of my plan, will have to deal with the Dark One." 

"What IS your plan?" Neal asks with his own growl. 

"Just the end of life as you know it." Zelena purrs. "You should have stayed inside daddy..." 

"Can you get any more cryptic?!" Emma snarls. 

"Oh I could, but it doesn't matter either way. How little or how much you know won't change the fact that you're all going to lose." Zelena smiled and stepped towards the Savior, which put her closer to the pregnant Mary Margaret. 

"DON'T!" David had immediately leapt forward, one hand going protectively over both of his wife's on her belly. "Don't come any closer." He warns, and I can see that it's not just his daughter that might unleash chaos inside the diner. 

"Oh don't worry." Zelena is all wide eyed innocence that doesn't fool anyone for even a second. "I'm not here for your baby." That fake show of innocence gives way to a visceral satisfaction. "Not today any way." The red head smirks, and prowls away from the Savior and her family. People scatter and some nearly fall over themselves to get out of the witch's way. 

"Then why are you here?" Regina, with a smirk of her own, stands tall and proud, a hand on her hip as she stares down Zelena. 

The witch actually smiles, though it lacks any real feeling to it. "Well.." She says slowly,and starts to approach Regina, bold as can be. "Now that my cover is blown I can finally pay a visit to my little sister." 

Regina doesn't lose her smirk, actually leans closer to Zelena. "Who the hell are you talking about?" The diner seems to hold it's breath, waiting for the witch's answer. 

"Why YOU of course, Regina." There is a very real loathing in Zelena's expression now, anyone can see she is not happy about their supposed relation. 

Regina's smirk turns uncertain in response. She's clearly confused, and she's not the only one, sound coming back to the diner as people speak in shocked murmurs, questioning if what Zelena has said could bet true. 

"What? I'm an only child." 

Zelena's expression distorts further, the loathing giving way to a boiling rage. "Cora LIED to you, Regina. I'm your sister." She then stands up taller, actually proud as she announces that the relation is only that of half siblings if one wanted to get technical. 

Regina blinks rapidly, and her smirk steadies itself. "Why should I believe anything you say? 

"Oh you shouldn't." Zelena replies. "It's a lot to swallow. And one should always be wary of a gift from a stranger." 

Regina lets out a scoff, laughing. "I don't want a gift from you." 

"Oh." Zelena breathes out that oh with an almost euphoric relish. "But you shall have it all the same. See my gift to you..." She steps even closer to Regina. "Is simply the time of one day. Use it to dig into our past, Regina. You need to learn the truth, and you must believe it. And then..." Her voice takes on a cheery bright quality, her teeth flashing with her evilest smirk yet. "Meet me on main street tomorrow night. Say sundown." 

All eyes are on the Evil Queen, who does not look frightened one bit. If anything Regina's face is alive with excitement, the woman actually enjoying this bit of sparring with the witch. "And then what?" She asks, and Regina's obvious satisfaction seems to spur Zelena's anger. 

"Then I'll DESTROY you." The witch says with an angry scowl. 

Regina smirks as she closes the last remaining distance between them. "This isn't the wild west." 

"No, dear." Zelena smirks, her eyes alight with menace. "It's the WICKED west." She then abruptly turns away from Regina, once again waving the dagger about. The heated exchanged that had all held us in thrall had actually distracted a great many of us from the dagger that Zelena held. She now brandished it proudly, using the reminder of it as an incentive to give credence to her words. 

"And I want everyone to be there..." Zelena says, shooting a quick glance Regina's way. They smirk at each other, and Zelena practically giggles with her glee. "So you can see the Evil Queen LOSE." 

If anything, Regina's smirk gets more pronounced, even as she sneers. "I DON'T lose." 

The giggles turn into a mocking kind of laughter. "Neither do I, so I guess one of us is about to make history." She practically winks at Regina, green smoke circling around her body. "See you tonight, sis." 

Regina maintains her smirk until after Zelena vanishes. She doesn't crumple or wilt in fear. If anything she scowls, then grabs for another shot. Everyone is staring at her, and no one moves to leave the diner. Not even the innocent patrons, everyone shocked, everyone having questions. 

Emma and her parents move at the same time as Robin and Neal do, surrounding Regina at the diner's counter. The questions follow after that crowding, and they're all talking at once, fast, loud, and drowning each other out in an attempt to get answers. 

Regina seems intent on ignoring them, even as they all vie for her attention, for the answers they think she MUST have. 

"What does she WANT?" 

"Why does she want to kill you?!" 

"Is she really your sister?" 

"What did you DO to her?!" 

That last was from Granny, her face angry as she poured more of the vodka. Regina snatches the bottle out of the woman's hand while glaring, and the questions continue right up until Regina smashes the half empty bottle against the counter top. 

"I don't know!" She exclaims in angry exasperation. "I've never even met her before today!" 

"Doesn't mean you didn't do something to piss her off..." Emma muttered and earned Regina's glaring disapproval. The Savior shrugged in reply, but that was all the apology she seemed ready to offer. 

"You did manage to step on a lot of toes back in our world." It was Mary Margaret who said that. 

"Well none of them were GREEN." 

"Well then there's the missing year." A openly hostile Granny reminded her. 'Maybe you did something to her THEN." 

"Stick to the lasagna, lady." Regina snapped, to which Granny huffed and then crossed her arms over her chest. Both were annoyed and glaring at one another, and it didn't calm the mood down one bit when David asked if Regina was sure that Cora had never mentioned a sister. 

"I think I would remember if my mother told me she had a love child with a scarecrow!" 

"Good to see you can still crack light about this." Neal muttered. 

"What does she even want?!" Mary Margaret was touching her belly again. "If she wants revenge on you, why go after MY baby?" 

Regina could only shrug in response to that. 

"There is something that has been bothering me...." Robin spoke. "How is it the Dark One was able to tell Emma and his son some of the witch's plan, but not tell anymore to Miss Belle?" 

Belle sat up straighter in her seat as all eyes went to her. "It was because of Neal." 

"Because of me?!" He exclaimed, but quieted down at Emma's touch on his arm. 

"Rumple...he was able to let me know this much....that when you and your father shared a body, it somehow negated some of the control that witch had over him." explained Belle. "You..I don't know..ran interference with the dagger's commands...." 

"So...so I'm at fault for this?!" Neal exclaimed. 

"No, don't say that." Emma quickly soothed him, with Belle and Mary Margaret making similar comforting statements. "You couldn't have known. None of us could." 

"Still we should have suspected something..." Neal protested. "He was so insistent on speaking...I should have let him talk more before you separated us!" 

"There's no use crying over spilled milk." 

"David's right. What's done is done. We have to focus on our future now." Mary Margaret insisted. 

"If we HAVE a future." Regina muttered darkly. "What?" She asked in response to the looks she got for that comment. "You don't honestly think that witch is going to play fair? Not when she has the Dark One under her command!" 

"She's probably right." Emma said with a sigh. 

"Probably?" 

"Which is why we now need more than ever to figure out what she is going to do." Emma continued as though Regina hadn't spoke. "Belle..is there any more research that you can do?" 

"I don't have much to go on..." Belle hesitated. "So for all we know is that she needs Mary Margaret's baby, and that she claimed a talisman of David's courage..." 

"There's a hundred spells at least that can require courage and the life of an innocent." Regina retorted, while Mary Margaret gasped in horror. 

"You mean she wants to KILL my baby?!" 

"Most likely, yes." Regina said, and rolled her eyes at Emma and David snarling her name. "Just because it's nasty, doesn't make it any less the truth." She stood up and grabbed hold of her coat. 

"Where are you going?!" Emma demanded. 

"You may have time to waste on going around in circles, but I DON'T." Regina answered while pulling on her coat. She tugged it into place, nodded once, and made to move for the door. She had to shove past the group crowding around her, and Emma was still shouting after her while she did it. 

"Regina!" Emma let out a soft sounding curse, and started to push off after her. "Belle, the research?!" 

"Right." she said, rising from her seat. I caught her by the arm, feeling as well as seeing how tired Belle STILL was. 

"You NEED some rest." I urgently stated. 

"I'll rest when this is all over." Belle retorted without so much as glancing towards me. I frowned in reply, my fingers gripping her arm a tad harsher. 

"Who knows when THAT will be." 

"Belle..." Mary Margaret was approaching, an apologetic look on her face. "Is there...is there ANYTHING you CAN tell us?" 

"Just that..." Belle tried to pull away from me, and I saw how Mary Margaret's concerned gaze touched upon my hand on the beauty's arm. But I didn't let go. "Rumple said the end is coming, and that soon we won't even know it." 

"That doesn't make any sense!" I say. 

"Very little has today." Belle said in a tired tone of voice. 

Sympathetic in reaction, Mary Margaret took Belle's other arm. "Let me at least buy you a coffee....." 

"That would be heaven." She was tired but appreciative. Mary Margaret shot me a look, part question, part annoyance, and it affected me enough that my grip loosened. Belle startled in reaction, but quickly pulled away, allowing Mary Margaret to lead Belle over to the counter. I waited a beat, then moved to follow, just as Emma Swan collided into my path. 

"I don't believe her!" She was fuming mad and frustrated, hands almost fists at her sides. 

"What happened?" I asked warily. 

"She freaking left me behind!" Emma exclaimed. "She knows I'm not that good with magic!" She glanced at Mary Margaret, who was just finishing paying Granny for Belle's coffee. "Any idea where she'd go?" 

Mary Margaret frowned. "Zelena told her to find out the truth..." 

"It's not like she can ask Cora." I muttered, but my attention is for the coffee drinking Belle who is inching her way towards the front door of the diner. "She's DEAD." 

"She may be gone but her things aren't." Mary Margaret pointed out. "Maybe Regina went to her vault..." 

"That may be it!" Emma said excitedly. It didn't stop her from grabbing my arm and nearly jerking me off balance when I made a motion to follow after Belle. "Leave her alone, Hook." 

"With all that's going on, you've more troubling things to worry about than me." I retort, and jerk my arm free. 

"Then don't give me any more reason to worry." Ordered Emma crossly. 

"Just focus on the witch and Regina." I try not to smirk and fail. "I'll handle things with Belle." 

"Hook...!" 

I force an unconcerned chuckle out, and hurry away without another look towards the Savior. I hear her sputtering behind me, and hear Mary Margaret speak over her daughter's discontent. 

"What is going on with Hook and with Belle?" 

I don't linger for Emma's answer. She can lie or be truthful, but either way it ultimately doesn't matter. Her words can't affect me, can't stop me from going after the woman that I want. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

To Be Continued..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sighs* Longest chapter yet for this particular story. But I am having mixed feelings about this chapter. I like the first half, but worry somewhere in the diner scene maybe I suck and messed up. I also don't like the ending paragraph, and maybe cause it's 5:14 am I can't get my mind to work anymore, but I couldn't improve on the ending paragraphs. My mind is kinda shutting down AND I am hungry....I really want next chapter to be a Belle POV too....I really worked hard to keep the diner scene all in one chapter...didn't want to end up spreading it out over two chapters...maybe that's why I feel like I messed up. Maybe it would have served the story better to break after Zelena teleported away. ARGH! I don't know...I still have to proofread...but I also got to grab something to eat... 
> 
> Laters! 
> 
> \----Michelle


	14. Fourteen

It was a lonely, forbidding time to be out walking on main street. The stores so busy bustling with people just hours earlier, now stood emptied and silent. The few souls that still stirred inside some of those buildings, were all employees who set about on last minute tasks meant to shut down and halt business, the approaching night signaling an end to the working man's day. There was only a few places that would remain open after normal business hours, and even fewer places that had the pull that could draw people away from the comfort and safety of their homes, the love of their family, and the complexities of their daily lives. Granny's diner was one such as to be numbered among the few of them that could, her delicious home styled cooking successfully drawing a full crowd night after night. 

Tonight had looked to be no exception, the place already packed long before sun down. It meant there had been plenty to bear witness to the wicked witch in all her malevolent glory, and she had said more than enough to set the town's tongues wagging. Even without the threat of the Dark One, there would be a crowd of spectators for the duel that was impending. The people of Storybrooke couldn't pass up a show, and there wasn't many that wouldn't like to see the Evil Queen get her comeuppance. They couldn't know that Zelena was just as bad if not worse than Regina, the witch all the more terrifying and not simply for the fact she held the Dark One in her total thrall. She was an unknown, her rhyme and reasons a near and total mystery. We knew very little about her, save for a few certain facts. She was to bring the end of all as we knew it, was after Mary Margaret's baby, and that she hated Regina with an unnatural brand of passion. How these things all tied together, none of us knew, the events of today bringing us no closer to discovering the answers that we so desperately needed. 

It felt hopeless. WE felt hopeless though no one would actually admit to it out loud. Least of all Emma. The savior clung hardest to her ideals, that sheer stubborn will powering the belief that we would find a way, that good would not only prevail but triumph over evil. I couldn't see how, my hurt heart dejected, crippled by the devastating blow done to me back at the cellar. By the memory of eyes gone black with malice, the shadows spreading, consuming every bit of the sunlight until there was nothing left but the darkness. I had known fear then, not for Rumple, and not so much for myself, but for the entire town. For every last person in Storybrooke, all of us in a danger that even I couldn't stop, the dagger too powerful, the Dark One too strong a curse for platonic plays at love. It had need of more than just friendship, of more than just family, and especially more than that fond affection that I felt so strongly for Rumple still. It had needed true love, and without it, I hadn't stood a chance. 

Defeated long before I had ever set foot in that cellar, I was lucky to come away with just a few scratches and a bruise. I was lucky to be alive, lucky to be intact, and it was only because of Rumplestiltskin, his love FOR me having held the worst of his monster at bay. It had hurt him to do it, Zelena and her command over him near indisputable. He could have killed me, and most likely SHOULD have on Zelena's command, but just as I had believed, Rumple hadn't wanted to hurt me. Not even when my kiss had failed him, my love proving untrue. His love and desires hadn't kept him completely from a lifting a hand to me, from roughly manhandling my hair. I remember Rumple trying to fling me out of the cage, my body hitting against the door. 

While still on his knees, he had managed to snarl at me to run, his every wooden action that of a puppet. Zelena's, Rumple tangled up in the threads that bound him to the dagger's sway. The darkness that had flowed out of him, was not merely a show to make me fear. I had looked into the shadows, had seen the primordial dark that had frightened man for a lot longer than either I or Rumplestiltskin had been alive. It had made me scream, made me scramble half falling towards where I thought the cellar's stairs still were. One risked look back, and the shadows had lashed out at me, battering both my body and my soul, coils of dark energy trying to grab hold of me as I had basically crawled up the stairs. 

The darkness had followed me out into the sunlight, no safety in the day or amongst the people that had gathered there. With the sun blazing in the sky, with the savior and other able warriors of might and magic to run interference, I had still been terrified. I was no less frightened now, alone on the street, with the approaching twilight that cast it's shadows everywhere. Suspicious of them, and of every dark corner, and skitter of sound, I all but ran the final distance to Rumple's shop. The door slammed shut behind me, the sign already flipped hours ago to regretfully announce to the public that the shop was closed. 

Still riding high on my panic and the caffeine from Granny's heavenly brand of coffee, the worst of my exhaustion did a temporary retreat. I actually managed to walk across the shop's floor without stumbling, setting my large plastic cup of coffee down on a glass counter. I took note of the arrangement of oddities and knick knacks, the various belongings that a town full of desperate people had been willing to barter away. For a help both magical and not, the town of Storybrooke just as plagued with problems as the Enchanted Forest had once been. 

The whole shop was filled with the like, a veritable treasure trove of magic and the mundane. I wondered if anything in this eclectic collection could possible have the power to help save us, then groaned with real feeling at the thought of all the research that was waiting on me. With a tired sigh, I lifted my hands to my face, rubbed fingers against my temples, wanting to sleep and not daring. I was beyond exhausted, and no amount of coffee and panic would keep me from ultimately collapsing and soon. 

Trying to steel myself against that from happening even one minute sooner, I drank several swallows worth of my large drink. The coffee tore an appreciative moan from my throat, Granny's special brand the best and most flavorful in all of the town. And then I was choking on it, the front door of the shop having slammed open, scaring me so badly that I dropped what was left of the coffee in it's cup to the floor. 

Still coughing on the hot liquid, I spun around at the touch of a hand on my shoulder. "Hook!" I managed to sputter his name, thinking how close he had just come to getting slapped. 

He loomed over me, and frowned when I tried to knock his hand off my shoulder. "The door wasn't locked." Hook had said it in such a way that I couldn't tell if the pirate was accusing me of something, or simply making a sheepish excuse for the way he had burst into the shop in the first place. 

"It takes time not to mention people to fix a door!" And this door had suffered plenty, first Neal, and then later Hook, both men having forced their way into the shop at some point during the day. 

Hook didn't so much as apologize for the hand he had played in damaging the door and it's many locks. But then I didn't really expect him to. He had done a lot worse, and a lot of it to me, and rarely had I received a sincere apology for his misdeeds. Having run roughshod over my heart, Hook has helped to ruin my life as I knew it. And yet I couldn't hate him half as much as I did myself, the knowledge burning, the seething fact that made me bristle. I had LET him. It had been my bad choice to make, and I had made it gladly and done so a dozen times more. Maybe even more than that, if Hook was to be believed about the missing year. I was afraid to ask, afraid that he would say something irrefutable that would paint his claims to be truth. 

"The shop is already closed for the night." I then say with a pointed look at his hand. It still sat on my shoulder, still tightened it's fingers in a firm grip whenever I so much as tried to move away. 

"I'm not here for the shop." Hook speaks in a firm tone of voice. 

"Then you might as well LEAVE." I am just as firm in voice. "There's NOTHING else left for you here." 

A clench of his jaw hinted at the emotion that he was suppressing. "There's YOU." 

The words should have thrilled me, and once they would have unquestionably. But I didn't, couldn't trust them, the words or the man speaking them. "Don't be silly..." I start to say with an airy, unconcerned laugh that I didn't truly feel. "'I'm not..." 

The sharp point of his hook did a gentle touch on my lips. A feather light touch that I barely felt, and yet it had me gasping all the same. The protest dies before it, and even once the hook has eased away, and caught instead at a stray curl of my hair, I say nothing. I can't, just staring, his dark blue eyes as unfathomable as the sea, heavy with an emotion that is focused on me. I can't claim to understand it, or the answering thrill that responds inside of me, but for one second I am drowning, the world actually reeling, guided only by the hand on my shoulder, and that hook of his curving about the nape of my neck. 

The warmth of his hand is at direct odds with the cold metal of his hook. The counter play of sensations, send a familiar reaction shivering through me. I actually tingle and feel my flesh prickle in awareness, a mortified crimson flaring to life on my skin. I expect to see that predatory smugness, to see that mocking smile curve his lips as Hook revels in the power that he STILL has over me. Something very much like loathing fills my gaze, my body going stiff as he pulls me forward that small distance. 

Hook doesn't just press us together, he MOLDS, ignoring my tension, my blatant upset as he bear hugs me to him. The wind is nearly squeezed out of me, my every panicked inhale bringing in the leather and sea spice scent of him. It's a familiar mix, one that is all uniquely Hook. It's a sweet intoxicating flavor, one that sparks an immediate response. Hook smells like HOME to me, and there's a sense of belonging whenever I am fitted between his arms. 

It lulls and relaxes me, some of the worst of my tension melting. I don't swoon, but neither do I hug him back. I simply endure, secretly reveling in the experience, that of the fit and the feel of him against me. The hard muscles of his body, the warmth of his breath stirring my hair. I don't know how long he intends to hold me, don't even know how long it has already been. Time is at a standstill, my heart beat and his the only tick of sound that I can hear. 

My trembling breaks the spell that has us both dazzled. That unsteady tremor, my legs actually shaking with the effort to keep me upright. I lean into him fully, feeling weak, feeling sick, a million unvoiced protests lodging in my throat as my feet lose contact with the floor. I find myself in a most awkward carry, Hook having lifted me up off the floor to rest bridal style in his arms. My mouth drops open with a wordless, near soundless squeak, to which he responds with the barest glimmer of a smile. 

"Try not to shift about too much." He tonelessly advises. "One hand and a hook is not the most deft and able for this sort of carry." 

It's one of the rare times Hook has ever acknowledged to me the disadvantage of having that sharp pointed metal be a replacement for his lost hand. Normally the pirate prides himself on how well he manages with it, Hook not seeing it as a disability so much as it giving him a cut throat advantage. A weapon as well as a tool, Hook had often taken to using it wherever he could, whenever he could. Even in bed, as my fever heated body could well attest to. 

With the blush still alive in my cheeks, I held and maintained the stare. "Put me down." I manage to order in a somewhat shrill tone of voice. "I have research to do." 

"It can wait." 

"No, it cannot." I retort, wanting to do the exact opposite of what he had warned me against. I want to squirm and to struggle, and fight my way free. I don't, too aware of his hook, and how neatly it could slice open my flesh on accident. "Emma asked me to..." I trail off, not liking the glower speaking her name causes Hook to show. "All of Storybrooke and it's people may be dependant on what I can find out." 

"And what good will it do anyone for you to work yourself to collapse?" He stared at me with one eyebrow arched. 

"I might be able to save everyone..." I'm more than a tad petulant, even as I know he does have a point. I won't be good to anyone if I work myself sick, if my exhaustion ends up seeing me laid out in bed for days on end. 

"You need to stop worrying for the others, and think of yourself for once." 

It comes out before I can stop myself. "What, and be like you?" 

He goes completely still at that, and I gasp out some half formed apology that Hook interrupts. "Aye, I deserved that." He says, and then resumes walking. I'm held firm against his chest, and I don't even know where Hook thinks he's going. "There's not been much room in my life to worry for others, and I can't see that much changing any time soon." 

My brow furrows. "Then why the big show of it today?" 

"Show?" He inquired, as he carries me into the private rear of the shop. 

"It was for Emma, wasn't it?" It all makes a twisted sense in my tired mind. I was certain Hook wasn't over Emma, was certain that he had just been playing me AGAIN. All in an effort to somehow win over Emma, some mad play to make the savior as insane with jealousy and feel as much hurt as the woman had caused Hook to feel. Everything from the kiss that had surely been staged, to the fake concern and worry that he had, to Hook's incredibly strange, possessive behavior in the car and at the diner. I even reasoned to myself that the only reason he was here with me now was that it was another one of his schemes to land the savior in his bed, and that just as soon as we were in the back of the shop, away from the windows he'd drop all pretense, and drop me. 

I had thought I couldn't be any more hurt by him, but now I had been proven wrong. He was still using me, still twisting things about for his own purposes. He didn't give a damn about me beyond what I could get him, and probably enjoyed splitting my heart in the process. 

Gutted in half by him, my glare was bitter as I told him that he could set me down now. "There's no one to see." I add angrily. "You don't have to pretend to care." 

His brow furrowed, while Hook most decidedly did not let me go. "There's few things that I ever pretend to do. Caring is not one of them." 

"Don't I know it." I mutter softly. 

"I've never lied about my feelings." Hook adds. "They may have gotten confused, and I may have done some...ill advised things..." I snorted at that. "But I've always tried to be honest about what I feel and for whom." 

He continued to carry me, past the table, and the many cases and shelves, towards a nondescript curtain. "What are...you can't go back there!" I protest with a genuine alarm, but Hook was already stepping through the heavy velvet drape. I came this close to struggling, panicked by what I saw as the ultimate in an invasion of Rumplestiltskin's privacy. 

Hook kept on walking, striding with powerful, purposeful steps down a corridor that would lead away from the shop, into the first floor of the extravagant townhouse that was Rumplestiltskin's home. I saw the familiar sight of the finely furnished sitting room, saw the love seat and the matching sofa set where Rumple and I had taken our daily tea and chocolate. 

There was several books on a glass coffee table, and my one concession to vanity, a fashion magazine laying spread open still where I had last left it. There was freshly cut roses in an expensive, oriental vase, and an extravagant seascape painting that had been done in shades that complimented instead of detracted from the room's color and decor. It was one of the more cozy of the rooms in Rumplestiltskin's home, less about showing off his wealth and his power, and more to do with living. 

Hook had paused for a second to get his bearings. He'd note the beautiful and delicate belongings, and then make a comment about how Rumplestiltskin had always liked to surround himself with pretty things. 

"Always?" I couldn't help myself. The time before Rumplestiltskin's rise to power, before he had become the Dark One, so much of it was still a mystery to me. I couldn't help but be curious about a time Rumplestiltskin almost never talked about, the man loathe to bring up the bad memories he still associated with his human life. 

"Even when at his most dirt poor, he always found a way.....be it trinkets or women." Hook had focused on me again, that unreadable emotion clouding his sapphire gaze. 

"Milah..." It was said with a knowing whisper. 

"Aye." Hook quietly agreed. "And YOU." 

"I hadn't been fishing for a compliment." I protest, unable to stop the scarlet heat rising to warm my flesh. 

"No, that's not like you at all." He agreed, and resumed moving. We passed by Rumplestiltskin's very crowded private library, the likes of which had many great volumes of stories and spells that would never be seen by even a quarter of the people in Storybrooke. The whole house was like that, Rumplestiltskin never inviting anyone over, sharing his domain with only one other person, and that person had been me. And now Hook was invading it, striding confidently about as though HE owned the place. 

"You really shouldn't be here!" I tried again, even as he passed by room after room. "Hook, no!" I protested as he started up the staircase. "This is wrong!" 

It was more than wrong, and it was more than an invasion of privacy, now that we were on the second floor landing. Being this close to Rumplestiltskin's and the guest's bedrooms, left me feeling like we were doing the ultimate in violations, as though this was a dozen times worse than all the other times that I had been unfaithful. It didn't matter that all Hook was doing was carrying me at the moment, I didn't trust him or his intentions, and my mind so frazzled by the day's stress and heartache, could not fathom any innocence to his reasons for bringing me here. 

"No, not there!" I cried out urgently, when Hook started to use his hip to push open the door to the master bedroom. "I...I have been staying down the hall...." To my utmost relief, Hook changed direction, heading towards the guest bedroom I had claimed as my own upon awakening back in Storybrooke. 

The room was nearly Rumplestiltskin's equal in luxurious decadence, made that way in part through a fault and a neglect of my own. After Rumplestiltskin's apparent death, after we had all awakened back in Storybrooke with a year of our lives and the memories that went with it, gone, I hadn't had the heart to redecorate. I had been too busy alternating, mourning one moment, lusting with Hook the next, and spending a whole lot of time on despising myself. 

Now I felt embarrassed at my surroundings, Hook looking around with more interest. "It doesn't seem to fit you very well." He said, and I shrugged in reply. 

"Rumple's the one who chose the decor." 

"Ah...." One word, a sound more than anything, but it came off disapproving. I tried not to fidget in response, and tried even harder when Hook made a beeline for the bed. 

"What...what are you..?" Seduction was the only answer I could think of, and only that sharp pointed hook kept me from kicking up a fuss with my outrage. I was rewarded with a gentle easing down onto the super soft mattress, it and the cool satin linen making me moan in helpless appreciation. I was so tired, and the bed held a greater temptation to me than any seduction Hook might have in mind. I fell over backwards into it, letting the mattress conform comfortably to my body. I actually fell asleep, at least long enough for Hook to leave and come back with a bowl of warm water, a white bar of soap floating in it, and a thin cloth towel draped over one of his shoulders. I shot up straight when that water touched my face, Hook wrapping an arm across my chest, to keep me against him. 

"Shhh...." He murmured into my ear, carefully dabbing the wet cloth against a spot over my eye. The soap stung just a little, doing a temporary easing of the sleep that was trying to claim me. "How did you get this cut?" 

"Probably when I was thrown against Rumple's cage..." I can't see he expression, but I can hear the furious sound to his voice. 

"He threw you? Like he did with Regina and Emma?!" 

"No...not with his magic." I protest quickly. 

"I don't know if that makes it worse or not..." Hook muttered angrily. 

"He wasn't trying to hurt me!" I protest. "He was trying to get me to leave..." 

"I'm sure there was a better way!" 

"Not when the witch was leaving him with no time and no options!" I cry out, and try to pull away. His arm holds me prisoner, and the battle exhausts me further. I droop in weary defeat, letting Hook continue to clean the sliver thin cut, and scrub at some smidgeon of dirt on my right cheek. He even goes so far as to pull out the stray pieces of straw that had tangled their way into my hair, though it will take more than his fingers to comb my hair free of the mess that Rumplestiltskin's cruel grip had made of it. 

"I must look a fright if you're going that far..." I murmur with my eyes half closed. 

"You're more beautiful than ever." There's heat in that retort, my eyes snapping open wide with surprise. 

"How can you say that?" I ask, forgetting my tiredness for one brief moment. 

"Because you survived." He answers just as fiercely as when he had proclaimed me beautiful. 

"I was never in any real danger..." I protest. 

"You were never NOT in any real danger." He counters. Finished with the cloth, he sets it and the bowl on the floor. "Belle.." His slightly damp fingers caress my cheek, and I give voice to the bewilderment that I feel. 

"Why are you being so nice to me?" His eyes seem to blaze in response, that emotion I can't, won't believe in, dancing in that blue's depth. "You never were before." I add more than a tad crossly. 

His smile is one of real regret, his rough and calloused fingers feeling over every contour of my face. "Aye, I haven't." 

"You were even worse after we all woke up in Storybrooke..." 

"I was angry....." He actually looks embarrassed, a look I've had very little experience with seeing on the pirate's face. 

"About Emma?" 

He hesitates. "No..yes.." 

"Well, which is it?" I demand. 

"It was both...and yet it was not." His thumb extends towards my lips, brushing over the frown there. "I was hurt and was angry, not understanding...not able to understand why you had left me." 

"I left you?! During the missing year?" I sit there in numb kind of shock when Hook nods. "But..but why?" 

"If you're asking me the actual reason, I don't begin to claim to know it. But I can guess...." His expression darkens. "I haven't been at all fair to you." 

"No, you haven't..." My voice murmurs a soft but heartfelt agreement. 

"And you're right, I was even worse after we all found our way back to Storybrooke." Hook hesitates. "I was so hurt and not wanting to understanding, not capable of admitting for a long time now what I had--HAVE been doing to you." 

My lips trembled, but I couldn't get the words out. It didn't matter, my eyes, as tired as they were, showed him, all the hurt and confusion, and the millions of tears. 

"I was punishing you...Punishing you for the betrayal, for the abandonment you did of me." He sighed then. "It's not right, and it wasn't fair, and I hadn't even thought to take into account how you must have felt living in Emma's shadow." He made a rueful noise then. "If I am at all honest, you didn't betray me..I betrayed myself and I betrayed YOU." 

He began attempting to brush away my free flowing tears. I pushed him away with a little hiccup of sound, not sure what to think, what to feel. I couldn't trust, not in him, and not in the feelings that those words hinted at. It wasn't a love declaration, but neither was it one of hate. It was some muddied in between, and I was still so afraid, so wary of his tricks. I didn't want to be made the fool anymore, didn't want his mind games and the knife that he continually twisted in my heart. 

Most of all I was tired, physically as well as emotional exhausted. This was just the last to sap me of what little energy I had left, leaving me no longer able to protest, to even try to, the research and the town's danger pushed aside, for the rest I so needed. With great big tears streaming down my cheeks, I rolled over, putting my back to him as I cried myself to sleep. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

To Be Continued....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I really like this chapter, though I didn't for the first 11 kB. Oh I am not hating on it per se, it's just I had this HUGE outline for what I wanted for 14 (and possibly some of that stuff was to carry over to 15.) and it wasn't going the way I had outlined my plans and goals for this chapter. Then it started getting somewhat on track, but then it derailed again (thanks Hook! Even though it wasn't his POV, what he was saying has derailed stuff) and I am at the point where I am like why do I even try to make plans for this fic, when the characters keep derailing all my plans to stick to a thought out plot. (Rather than a fly by the seat of my pants kind of thing this fic seems to want to do.) 
> 
> I'm already thinking of damage control...cause the planned plot I had for this whole story is a much bigger one, and it would be bad to get too far off track....but who knows what will happen when I attempt to write out 15. X_X I'm not even sure whose POV it will ultimately be...I'm leaning towards a Belle POV...but we shall see... 
> 
> Oh before I forget, I spent yesterday night and this morning going over the fic. fixed a lot of typos and made some corrections, nothing major....but hopefully it improves the read even just a little! Unfortunately I am the type that no matter how many times I try to correct, the next time I reread I find a typo I MISSED. ARGH! 
> 
> Later! 
> 
> \---Michelle


	15. Fifteen

Somewhere outside the bedroom window, a pair of love birds sang. A lovely, lilting litany of excited, repeating chirps, the two conversing as they worked together to continue work on the nest that they had been building for the past few days now. I didn't mind the sound, found it more comforting than disruptive, my soul soothed to hear it, my lips actually remembering how to smile. For one shining moment I was at peace, the world itself seeming brighter, hope restored on the warm rays of a sunshine that touched down on the room. Flooded with it, the memories of the day before, of the turmoil and the shadows, the fright and confusion, the overwhelming hurt and sheer exhaustion, wasn't just faded but forgotten. 

With a soft sound of contentment, I snuggled closer to my pillow. It's downy soft comfort was a special kind of heaven, and I think I fell back into that worriless, dreamless kind of slumber that I had been enjoying just before waking a few seconds ago. But not for long. When next my eyes fluttered open, the room wasn't that much brighter, not more than perhaps ten minutes having gone by. It felt like a lifetime, the sounds of early morning Storybrooke now coming alive. The rattle of a shop's metal gate being lifted, the sound of a few male voices calling out greetings to one another. The rumble of an engine, as some car plodded down main street. The day was finally starting, people venturing out of their homes for work and for school. 

I could do no less. There was the library and the pawn shop, and the hundreds upon hundreds of responsibilities that came with them both. I couldn't quite remember what they were, nor could I explain the unsettled feeling that now stole over me, this looming awareness that grew stronger the longer that I kept awake. There were male arms around me, firm muscle behind me, the rise and fall of a warm, even breath on my skin. I wasn't alone, and the realization of it put an end to my smile. 

He felt the change come over me, felt the way my relaxed state gave way to a noticeable tension. The comfort I had wallowed in was lost, my entire body stiffening, battered by awareness, by memories, and most of all by hurt confusion. The morning's peace was now gone, yesterday cascading over me. Hook, Rumplestiltskin, the feelings, the hurt, the raw terror and the endless confusion. I let out a staggered sounding breath, the room itself spinning. I recalled everything now, from Neal's return, to Hook's odd behavior, and everything in between. The realizations in the shop, the responsibilities I still had, and my failures at the cellar. 

Overwhelmed by it all, I let out a sound, some strangled noise of distress. Hook's arms around me hugged tighter, the man's lip's whispering soothing nonsense against my ear. I shook in reaction, felt the odd sensation of Hook offering comfort, the pirate hauling me more firmly against him as he rocked me gently in place. Oddly it worked to calm the worst of my anguish, my body relaxing into it, and I heard as well as felt the approval, Hook speaking a husky whisper into my ear. 

"That's it love, you're safe." 

I couldn't quite manage the snort. Safe was the last thing that I felt, my body managing a flinch when a shadow took flight pass the window. That dark form was accompanied by the strong beat of wings, one of the love birds having flown off for some reason. 

"You can let go of me now." I said, once the worst of my shivers had stopped. His arms only tightened around me more securely, Hook chuckling lightly in my ear. 

"Just as soon as I know you won't bolt." 

My faced burned in response, his words an accurate mark of what I had intended. But it wasn't just the bed that I had wanted to leave, but him, and the situation, the knowledge pounding through me that this was the longest Hook and I had ever been alone together without things having turned sexual. I didn't trust it, didn't trust him, not wanting to remember, not wanting to believe, the few things that he had told me the night before. 

"So now what?" 

"Now?" He inquires, and God help my traitorous reaction, Hook having nuzzled against me in a way that could almost be described as loving. 

"I don't have time for this." I mutter fiercely, and again his arms hold me imprisoned. "I have responsibilities to over see, research to...." 

"And what of your responsibilities to yourself?" Hook interrupts me. "Your health and well being..." 

"The town needs me..." I say flatly. 

"You can work yourself dead, and the town and it's Savior still won't be satisfied." His voice snaps with real bite to it. 

"Don't be ridiculous." I protest. "Emma doesn't want me dead. None of them do." I start trying to shift towards him, intending to look Hook in the face. "Is this about yesterday? About what could have happened?" 

"What ALMOST did happen." Hook corrected. He's not letting me turn, not letting me move even that much, hiding the expression, the emotion that surely colors it, from me. 

"But it didn't." I wince in silent protest, Hook's powerful embrace a tight squeeze that actually hurts. 

"You were lucky." 

"Rumple never wanted to hurt me." But the memory remains, as does the scratch and the bruises, my body hurting where it had hit the metal door of the cage. 

"You're not at all like HER in that respect." 

"Her?" I frown and then hazard a guess. "You mean Milah?" 

"Theirs wasn't a happy marriage." Hook tells me. "Hadn't been for years. Rumplestiltskin may have been in love with his wife, but he wasn't always that kind to her, and that was before she ran off to be with me." 

The similarities were a little too close for my liking. I was no longer in love with Rumplestiltskin the way that he was with me, and just like Milah, my unfaithfulness had centered around the very pirate who lay now in my bed. 

"Get to the part where I am NOT like Milah, please..." 

"Oh there's plenty." Hook quickly assures me. "But if there's one fault you have that she did not, it is your ability to believe, to trust in Rumplestiltskin and the idea that he will never hurt you." 

I shiver in response. "She thought there was a chance of it?" 

"She didn't just think, she anticipated it." Hook retorts. "Her one and only fear was the revenge he would take. It was a terror that colored our joy, that kept us from retrieving her son. In abandoning Baelfire, we bought ourselves time...but it wasn't indefinite." 

"How did it happen...?" I ask softly. I knew from Hook's own lips that Rumplestiltskin had torn out and crush Milah's heart, but I had never gotten the full accounting of the events that had led up to it. "How did he even find you?" 

"Nothing more than a pure twist of luck." Hook had gone rigid behind me. "Our misfortune his blessing, some cruel twist of fate that had us both crossing paths outside the same tavern." 

"Rumplestiltskin doesn't strike me as the tavern going sort..." 

"He's not. That much has never changed." Hook let out an angry breath. "He wasn't much for mingling with us low life's...but if there was a deal to be made.." 

"A deal?" But it wasn't that surprising to me. 

"A way to possibly retrieve his lost son." Hook clarifies. "Ironic isn't it...the events that led to the death of the boy's mother, in part Baelfire's own fault." 

"Do you blame him?" 

"There's a part of me that does." Hook admits. "If the boy had simply stayed put...ah but then there's no guarantee. The circumstances change but not the situation, Milah's murder perhaps an inevitable fate..." 

"Then there's nothing you could have done." I speak softly, and with genuine feeling. "If she was destined to die..." 

"We're all destined to die." He corrected me. "Not even the Dark One can escape that eventuality indefinitely." 

There was a dark, menacing undertone to the words growling out of him. I can't help but tremble in response, a memory from yesterday surfacing amidst all the others, the very bad feeling and the alarm that I had felt outside the cellar returning. I had been too tired and wound up with everyone's problems, to properly take on yet another worry. That wasn't the case now, not with a full night's sleep behind me. 

"Hook..." I say carefully, noting how he still won't let me shift about to turn and face him. "What were you intending?" 

"Intending?" 

"With the dagger." I clarify. "What were you going to do with it if you found the dagger?" Silence was his answer, and I let out the most disappointed of sighs. "I thought you were past ideas of revenge." 

"It won't be about revenge, and it won't be about protecting this town." He says in heated response. 

"Then what will it be about?" I ask, then say her name with a challenging growl of my own. "Emma?!" 

"No, damn you, no!" 

His angry passionate denial only made me doubt harder, the scoff hissing out of me. "Like I could believe otherwise!" I say, only to find myself flipped onto my back, pinned underneath his hard and agitated body. My eyes widen with shock, then narrow, and I am glaring at him, all my anger, all my pain and confusion showing as I snarl at Hook that one doesn't get over love that quickly. 

There's no pain or confusion, just an answering anger that matches mine. "Damn it, I don't love her!" Hook scowls down at me. "I don't think I even LIKE her." 

"Feelings don't just change over night!" I struggle and shout at him. My one wrist is pinned to the bed by his hand, the other one feeling the curve of his hook fitted against it's skin. He bends over me, voice rasping out with a hostile truth. 

"You're right, it doesn't!" 

I'm poised to do something, to laugh or to sob, and both would be bitter. I sag in place beneath him, my expression sullen with defeat and I almost don't take in the next words that Hook says. 

"I've been an idiot. I've been so in love with the idea of Emma, with the happy ending that I thought she could bring me, that I almost failed to see..." His hand let go of my wrist, his fingers then doing a skimming caress over the front of my face. "The beautiful, vibrant possibility right in front of me...that has ALWAYS been in front of me." 

Affected, I damn him, my vision blurring with a wetness that distorts the sad smile he gives me in turn. I'm sniffling loudly, bitterly, using my freed hand to brush at my eyes. Hook rolls off of me, but doesn't leave the bed. Instead he pulls me against him, but this time we're facing each other, Hook's lips tasting my tears, brushing a million tiny worshipful kisses on my wet skin. 

He whisper things in between the kisses. Tells me of mornings I can't remember. Of times of both tears and of laughter, and of the things that had haunted us, the people, the place, and the things. He holds me and I don't remember, this night that has passed the first like it as far as I am concerned, though Hook assures me otherwise. 

"It's all right, love..." He says to me. "I'll keep on remembering for us." 

When he speaks like this, so tender and so seemingly sincere, it's easy to get caught up in the moment. To forget the things that have troubled me, the problems and people that are like a plague upon my happiness. Emma, Rumplestiltskin, the town and the plans Zelena has for it, and I'm so close to pretending, to making believe despite the sharp throb of pain deep in my chest. 

That sharp throb of pain is my one and only defense. With no real experience towards a Hook that is this kind, it's only my hurting heart that screams out a warning. 

"NO!" I gasp out loud, and try to shove away from him. He looks confused and rightfully startled, my body having melted against his just seconds earlier. "No!" I say it again, then shake my head, trying for a composure I do not feel. "It all makes for something that seems very pretty, those sweet and wonderful lies..." 

"They're not lies!" Hook immediately protests, and I let out a mocking scoff of sound. 

"You don't love Emma, you don't even like her?" I challenge to which Hook nods vehemently in agreement. "Then how come!? Then how come you moaned out HER name while with me?!" 

I get to watch HIS face go pale with his shock, Hook staring at me, aghast. There's no satisfaction found in the expression that he shows me, only bitter realization that Hook hadn't known, that he had never known. It makes me eyes wet again, but it's not just bitterness and anger that I feel. 

"You don't even know your own feelings, do you?!" I demand. I slap him hard when he tries to protest, and the blow stuns him in such a way that I am able to scramble free of him and the bed. 

"Belle!" 

I'm already running towards the bathroom before he can do much more than shout. By the time he does move, it's seconds too late, the door slamming shut in his face. I quickly lock it, and lean against it, hearing Hook swear. Feeling the door rattle as he pounds it with his fist, Hook shouting at me. 

"Belle, I didn't...!" 

"You did!" I scream back. "You were thinking of HER while you were INSIDE of me!" 

"Belle I..." 

"How do you think that makes me FEEL?!" I shouted over him. "With one word, you have ruined everything and succeeded in making me feel more used than I have ever, and that's saying something considering you once tried to shoot me down in the name of your revenge!" 

"I've been stupid!" I snort at that. "No beyond stupid, I've been a colossal idiot....the greatest fool to ever walk the three realms! I've let my anger, and my jealousy hurt us both, and I've let my dream of the happy ending that I thought I had wanted, twist things. I didn't just hurt you, I've hurt myself, trying to change, trying to be something that I am not. I'm not a hero, and I'm not a good person, but damn if I didn't realize something important yesterday!" 

I couldn't stop the wary interest, couldn't keep from being curious, even as I was on guard against Hook and whatever claims he might make. The door rattled again, Hook trying to force it open, and I heard the frustration growl out of him. 

"Belle! You're the one who matters! And it's not for revenge, not for just a good time, not for any thing that you might be thinking. I....I care for you...and it's even more than I had realized, more than I had even thought possible when we had all ran off to Zelena's on that fool's errand." 

"No..." I say, and my hands raise to clamp over my ears. I am shutting out the sound of his voice, not wanting to hear any more of his lies. He's shouting but the words are muffled, the heat and passion to them just about the only thing I can comprehend over my own screaming. "Go away! Leave me be!" I sob, and the door is pounded on one final time. I actually start crying harder when he does exactly as I have asked, Hook leaving, giving up on us, on me and it doesn't make me feel one bit better. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

To Be Continued Of Course.....X_X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...yeah usually bitching about some plans being derailed, though I did get things back on track sort of...X_X It's a short chapter too.....and it gave me all kinds of trouble. *sighs* If it wasn't such huge spoilers, I would post my summary outline plans just to do a comparison of how different the chapters end up being from my schemes....but I am still hoping to use some of those schemes in future chapters... 
> 
> The story is still far from finished...also got to figure out how to cover some stuff that happened in the cannon in this..I tried to continue from the last line, to get at least another paragraph in this one, but everything I tried didn't flow well, so I just accepted to end it on the ending sentence that I did. ^^'' 
> 
> Laters! 
> 
> \----Michelle


	16. Sixteen

I'm half crazed with desperation, something very much like panic pumping adrenaline through my whole body. I'm sure it makes me look wild, my every racing thought and emotion flashing across my face, and translating into frantic action in turn. My hand scrabbled at the door, pounding it's fist repeatedly in place against the wood. The door in it's frame rattled but held, Belle safe for the moment. Safe from the sight of me, from the words I was saying, her screams drowning me out, Belle half hysterical and in a whole world of pain. I couldn't come close to matching it, Belle a million more times hurt than I had ever been by Emma. And there was no one to blame but myself! 

I hit the door harder than I had just been hitting it, and hurt my hand in the process. I then let out a deep breath and took a step back, but my feelings hadn't calmed down one bit. In that moment, it wasn't the door I wanted to beat up but myself, a real kind of self loathing filling me. That bubbled up hatred made me so angry, so furious, that I wanted to hurt. Curses spilled past my lips, my still throbbing hand scrubbing over the front of my face. It came away damp with sweat, my panic making me perspire. 

"Fuck." There was real bite to that word, all my anger and my feelings funneled into that quiet exclamation. It leeched away none of it, not the anger, not the hatred, and certainly not the mad desperation. It was like the car ride from Zelena's all over again, with only the reason behind it, the focus, changed. It wasn't Emma and the others I was hating, blaming, it was myself. For being the colossal idiot I had already announced myself to be, for making a mess of things, and for the near subconscious thrill that took note of Belle's pain and saw the potential there. The hurt AND the jealousy, that mad, sick, green emotion leaving Belle livid with genuine feeling. It twisted her up, made her sick with the feelings that she had for me, and I was glad. Glad for the chance it still gave me, Belle so distraught with her feelings because they were THERE, existing inside her. 

It would have been worse if Belle had felt nothing. If she would have been capable of talking on the wrong I had done her, without so much as a flicker of emotion passing through her. It meant that she felt, and felt it for me, though what that feeling ultimately was, I couldn't actually say. I didn't fool myself into believing this meant she was in love with me, but neither did I take it to mean she felt hate towards me. It was something in the middle, some murky shade of feeling that could ultimately turn either way, and I would do my best to push it along in my favor. 

I thrilled to the challenge of it, to the purpose it renewed inside of me. The idea of Belle genuinely falling in love with me made my own villainous heart throb with emotion. I liked the idea of it, the memory of just the level of passion that she had already proved capable of, bolstering my anticipation of it, of the love that Belle could ultimately give me. I more than just liked it, I was desperate for it, Belle's love that vital something I now NEEDED. So wrapped up in thoughts of it, in the wanting of it, I didn't give time to examine my own visceral feelings. I ignored what my heart was struggling in turn to realize, the epiphany that had started in Emma's car, that had been birthed by a feeling that was both equal parts terror and relief. I acknowledged everything but it, lied to myself and to Belle about what my strong reaction had merely hinted at. I was in denial, unable, unwilling to make myself that vulnerable. Not now, not again, not so soon after Emma. 

I was in effect running scared from my own heart. From the weakness and the pain, Belle's own loud sobbing a taste of just how bad things could get. I backed off from it, just as I backed away from the door. Her sobs followed me across the bedroom, Belle if possible becoming even more distraught now that I had seemingly left her alone. Her sobbing made me feel both terrible and good, the part of me that was wanting to offer comfort at odds with the part that enjoyed the proof of how strongly the woman felt because of me. I wanted to kiss her for every tear and I wanted to wring out even more, every single drop a tangible proof that attested to the capacity in which Belle was able to feel. 

Crying both for me and because of me, Belle felt in ways that Emma had never. I had repaid her in heartache, had physically hurt as well as emotionally exhausted her, Belle somehow surviving. Weathering through it all with a strength and a courage, Belle stronger than anyone, then even I, had given her credit for. I wonder if she realizes her own strength, if Belle understands even half of what she is capable of enduring. The abuse and the neglect, the shooting and the using, and it's not even half of what she has already endured and forgotten! 

The missing year unearths in my memories, and in mine alone. She doesn't remember, none of them do, and it is both a blessing and a curse, these memories that I look at with new eyes. Nearly a year Belle and I had spent together, nearly a year worth of memories, of comfort, of sex, but also of hardship. I had let Emma haunt us, had let my own anger and obsession with what had happened, with what had been lost, drive me. I had alternated between getting drunk and burying my feelings into Belle's body while obsessing over finding a way back to the world of Storybrooke. And I never once took into account how all that was making Belle feel, unable to recognize, to acknowledge the sadness that gleamed near constant in her eyes. 

Now I can see it was more then just sadness, and more than just an unrequited longing. Belle had been hurting, unable or unwilling to give voice to the feelings inside her. She had let the pain of it cripple her, but only up to a point, and that once reached, was when she had just up and disappeared. And even once gone, I hadn't been able to understand, Belle OR her feelings, too focused on so much on my own. Too caught up in a grief I had thought had been healing, Belle's leaving had ripped open all wounds, a bitter anger having filled me. 

It's different now. I not only forgive her, but understand her. I more than understand, I marvel at the fact that Belle had bothered to stick around for as long as she had. I'm even grateful, able to see how she had helped me, soothing the worst of my suffering. I didn't do nearly enough for her in return, able to tolerate only so much of Belle's own grief where Rumplestiltskin was concerned. I had been beyond selfish, demanding so much of Belle but giving so little in return, not wanting to share her with even the memory of Rumplestiltskin. And yet I had expected her to do exactly that, to share my life and my bed with the shadow of Emma Swan looming around us. 

For a time, Belle did exactly that. I wonder now at the tears shed, and wonder now how much of it had been for Rumplestiltskin and how much of it had really been for US. For the chance of us I wasn't allowing, Belle hanging on, day after desperate day and nothing changing. And nothing probably would have if left up to me. I had been too stupid and too blind, chasing after a fantasy when a lovely, all too real alternative was right in front of me. I had used Belle and I had hurt her, and things would have kept on going like that for forever. I never once truly appreciated her, not even after she was gone, so unquestionably furious with Belle and her decision to leave me. 

She didn't even say goodbye to me. Belle just snuck off like a thief in the night. She was right to do it that way, and not just for her dignity's sake. If she had approached me, if Belle had given me even one inkling that she was that unhappy, I would have NEVER let her leave. I would have ground us both in misery, forcing her to be with me, to stay. I would have continued to be selfish, and in that mad desperation, I probably would have never come to appreciate just who I had right in front of me. As it was I had remained angry, and remained so for a long time indeed. I had nurtured harsh feelings, let my anger and resentments whisper convenient lies. I had convinced myself that Belle didn't matter, that I had never even LIKED the woman. 

It was a dislike I had tried to maintain after we had all ended up back in Storybrooke. I tried and failed to keep my distance, letting both my lust for Belle and my pursuit of Emma run roughshod over my own self. They counter balanced each other, that strong, unwanted lust making me throw myself into the chase even harder, only to have each rejection send me running straight into Belle's eager arms. Even as I lied to myself and said that I had hated Belle, I couldn't resist her. Or the new opportunity her lack of memories had allowed me. The sweet, seductive chance to have her again and again, in a way she most likely wouldn't have even allowed had she remembered. 

But she hadn't remembered. None of them did. I took full advantage, both fucking her and punishing her for leaving me. I was hurt and I was cruel, and Belle is a million times right when she says feelings don't just change over night. I've had a whole year to work on them, and it has taken me each and every day to come to the realizations that I have had. It hasn't been easy, and it's been a whole lot of messy that has been helped along by the close calls that we've almost had, each time Belle is put in danger, making me realize just how much I don't want to lose her. 

That I may have already done exactly that, has me flinching as I settle down to wait. I don't understand why I would have moaned Emma's name unless it was some sort of subconscious desire that had wanted to hurt Belle still. I stifle a groan, hoping against hope that I haven't ruined things between us yet again but even if I had, I am not leaving. I can't, I won't, and like I had told Belle in the car, I am NEVER letting her go. 

I'm never going to let go and I'm never going to give up. No matter how long she insists on hiding in the bathroom. I don't know how long it takes, I don't even particularly care. I stand in the shadows of the closet space, and wait, watching with the same predatory patience that had motivated me for some three hundred years. My reward is the click of the lock turning, the bathroom door slowly creeping open. I keep to the shadows, watching as Belle cautiously steps out into the bedroom. She looks around, looks right at the closet, but with my black leather I am blended into the darkness. 

She's not reassured, Belle hugging her arms to her, as she begins tip toeing about the room. I hear the occasional sniffle, Belle actually hiccupping with distress but at least she's not outright bawling. Her lips tremble with that unvoiced emotion, Belle drifting towards the bed on unsteady legs. She stares down at it, at it's rumpled state, her hand extending towards it. Her fingers stop short of actually touching it, Belle making a sound. She shakes her head no, backs away as though scalded, and spins on her heel. That puts her in path of the mirrored vanity, Belle stopping before it. Her hands touch the smooth counter top, and for the longest time she just stares down at it. 

The sudden crash of sound follows her arm lashing out. Belle's violently knocking the things off the vanity's counter, make up and the like falling to the floor. It makes for a loud ruckus, one that helps cover my own attempts at soft footsteps. I walk towards Belle, whose panting with exertion, her gaze focused not on the mirror but the floor and the mess that she has made. And then she looks up, actually freezes in place, her eyes meeting mine in the reflection of the mirror. 

For one second we're locked, just staring, Belle's expression a confusing mix of emotions. There's fear there, and anger, and that overwhelming sadness. There's also a spark, some tiny flicker of excitement, of hope. I watch her force it down, watch Belle concentrate on those powerful feelings of anger and despair. It's not either of those things that makes her bolt, Belle dashing to the right. I move when she does, effortlessly stepping into her path. 

Belle actually bumps into me before she can stop herself, a loud gasp escaping her. I put out my hand, my arm catching about her waist. She automatically twists in reaction, trying to get free, and then I am hauling her against me, her body pressed against my front as I whisper to her from behind. 

"We're going to talk." 

"I have NOTHING more to say to you." insists Belle, her body doing a very agitated tremble against mine. 

"That's too bad, because I have plenty to say to you." 

"I don't want to hear it!" Belle exclaims. "I don't want to hear any more of your lies, I don't..." She stopped up short with a gasp, Belle shaking her head no. 

"Belle?" 

"There's nothing you can say..." She whispers. "Nothing you can say to try and make this better." 

"At least let me TRY." I plead. "Just give me a chance...." 

"I have given you PLENTY!" She screams, twisting against me. "And how was I rewarded?! You've shot me, you've used me...you've hurt me in the worst possible ways. You haven't given a damn about me or MY feelings!" 

"Belle, I am SORRY. I've been such an idiot....a narrow minded fool. But believe me when I say there is a reason for it!" 

"Yes, I know there's a reason, and I know that's reason's name." Belle spat out Emma's name, and I couldn't deny it, I wouldn't, the Savior so much a part of this as anything else was. 

"Yes, Emma..." I say, and hear the strangled sound hiss out of Belle. "She didn't start out meaning anything....She was just a...convenient tool, just another stepping stone in my quest for revenge on your crocodile. You all were." 

"All?" 

"Emma, her mother, Mulan and the princess named Aurora. Even Cora and Regina, I used any and all who crossed my paths. I used and I cared even less who I hurt in the process, nothing more important, nothing more essential than achieving my revenge. I used and I manipulated, pitting them all against one another, working all angles. I didn't care who got me to Storybrooke, I didn't care about NOTHING but my revenge." 

I had Belle's complete attention, reluctant though she had been to give it. "What changed?" 

"Honestly? For the longest time nothing. I was too caught up in my revenge, too busy using you to get at the crocodile. There certainly wasn't any time for Emma or foolish fancies of the happy ending she might be able to give me....no...no that wouldn't happen until the madness of Neverland took us all over." 

"The madness?" 

"What else could it be?" I asked. "Heroes and villains united under one common quest. Even I and Rumplestiltskin had put aside our grievances, in the attempt to find and rescue Henry." 

"You were all heroes...." 

"No. Some of us only played at that role." Belle shivered in response, hearing the dark menace that growled out of me. I wasn't happy with bringing up that week in Neverland, that confusing time where I had spent most of it drunk on my best rum. "I didn't give a damn about being a hero, I only wanted what it could get me, what SHE could give me....." I all but snarled in Belle's ears now. "When it all started, it was nothing more than about conquest, about the good fuck she could give me. If saving her son was the key, then by Gods I would help do it." 

Belle tried to pull away, actually lurched forward before I snatched her back against me. "Ah love, but there's MORE." 

"More...!" 

"Neverland, it's madness was upon us....more precisely it was upon me, what with the sleepless nights and near endless amounts of rum. It's no wonder I went a little crazy, a little wild. I wanted so badly to get the better of the woman who had bested me on both the beanstalk and at Lake Nostos...I wanted Emma, and I did just about anything to have her." 

Belle cried out at that. It was a sound that was both parts jealous and angry, and I cruelly ate it all up. 

"Make no doubt about it love, I did get a taste. One lingering kiss. She knew how to tease, that Emma. Knew how to leave a man wanting MORE. She gave enough to get me to stick around, and between the rum and the insomnia I was dazzled." 

"Stop making excuse for what you wanted!" Belle snaps out angrily. "You wanted Emma....you still do..." 

"I wanted the happy ending! On that island I stopped existing just for revenge, and starting believing in the chance for something more...I didn't LOVE Emma but the fantasy, I let the idea of it, of her, fill my head with all kinds of thoughts, with hopes and dreams that continue to go unfulfilled. I was once again working angles, with a stake that was much higher than my revenge. She was sexy, attractive, and unattached, or so I had believed...." 

"Neal..." 

"Her true love." I couldn't help but sneer. "I didn't want to believe it, I was desperate not to, and Emma played her part well in stringing me along until AFTER her son was rescued." 

"You're bitter." She notes. 

"Can you blame me?" I counter. "Emma USED me, and she played me for a fool. No worse than that, she made me her lap dog, begging for a few scraps of attention. She kept doing just enough to get me to believe in her, in the chance of us, to keep me obedient. I got caught up in her games, doing, saying just about anything to please her. I actually tried to change, to become the hero for real, as if that would somehow make me worthy, of Emma and of the happy ending she had dangled. It didn't, it couldn't, and the part of me that recognize the futility of it all, was the same frustrated part that needed an outlet." 

"An outlet?" Belle's voice takes on the chill of winter. "Is THAT what I was to you?" 

"No..." I hesitated, then closed my eyes and admitted yes. She tried to pull away, actively fought me as best she could, but I kept her against me. "Belle, I am SORRY!" 

"You keep trying to say that! It doesn't change anything!" She shrieked. 

"Maybe it doesn't..." I agreed. "But at least hear me out..at least hear WHEN things between us started to really change." She shakes her head no. "Belle, please!" 

"NO, I don't want to hear it. Not that, not any of this!" She tries to cover her ears, but I grab at her wrists, my hook pinning one against my body. The other I hold, and feel the fierce tremble of her arm, Belle wanting so badly to fight, and to possibly slap me. 

"It was the missing year!" It was an urgent hiss. "It was after we had all ended up back in the Enchanted Forest." 

"The missing year...." 

"The one I almost never talk about." My voice hasn't lost it's urgent tone. "Aren't you at all curious? Haven't you spent day after day wondering, hoping to remember?" 

"We all have." She admits it with a whisper. "There's not a person in Storybrooke who hasn't wanted to remember..." 

"I've got the answers, and all you need do is ask." I start to let go of her, start to step back and wait. Belle doesn't bolt, doesn't so much as move, just standing there thinking it over. 

"Just ask?" A soft wary tone that draws a quick smile from me. 

"Aye." I say. "Just ask and listen..." 

"Al...all right." She says, and slowly turns towards me. My gaze locks with hers, Belle's eyes two bright storm clouds of rolling emotion. There's a defiant anger in her gaze, but also an eagerness that makes me count my blessings for just how curious Belle can be. "I want to know everything! Why we can't remember! Who cast the curse, and even what that witch is really after!" 

"Hold on!" I raise my hand as though to stave off her questions. "I don't make claims to have ALL the answers." 

Belle frowns. "But didn't you just say....?" She takes a step back, and then another, as though she might run after all. 

"I can't have been EVERYWHERE." I explain, stressing the word. "I'm only one man, and without my ship..." She's disappointed and it shows, Belle actually starting to turn away from me. "It would take a great magic like the Dark One, to even come close to pulling THAT off." 

"And we all know you're no Rumplestiltskin." Her chin lifts with that, Belle trying to insult me. 

"Thank God I am not!" I chuckle in reply. "No love, I only know the parts of the story that I myself witnessed. And seeing as I took the first opportunity to break off from the group, I'm afraid that's not very much." 

"You mean you separated from the rest of us?" 

"I didn't feel I had any real reason to stay. Emma wasn't there, and neither was my happy ending." My voice turns husky. "YOU weren't there either." 

"You didn't care for me." She automatically retorts. "Don't pretend otherwise." 

"Oh I liked you just fine." I inform her. "Aside from your bad taste in men. And there was a certain...satisfaction in what we had shared.: 

She gives off a snort at that. "I'll just bet." Her expression is furious, and doesn't match the sickly sweet tone she uses. "After all, I didn't leave you wanting for more." 

I fight the smile, the smirk that wants to come out. Belle's eyes may be blue, but she's looking positively green as she throws back the words I had used about Emma a few minutes ago. 

"There's more ways to leave a man wanting, than just by refusing him." Now I let the self satisfied smile come out, my voice husky as I stare at her with all the lusty focus that I can manage. "And you love, have got it down pat." 

I drink in her faint blush, Belle turning a pale pink. She stares at me, and practically goes crimson when I slowly lick my lips. 

"I don't know what you're talking about." 

"Liar." I laugh, my eyes alight with sexual heat and the memories. "You were quite passionate for a virgin. And SO eager to learn." Was it possible for a woman to get any redder than that? I'd get my answer, Belle's blush such a bright spot of color, my every word seeming to agitate her further. "With that hot eager mouth, and those clever little hands.." I couldn't help myself, I moaned, the sound so deeply sexual as though I wasn't just remembering, but actively experiencing. 

She never broke eye contact, staring at me with her lips slightly parted. Everything about Belle seemed to tremble or quiver in time with her breath, the woman remembering, and she was just as affected as I was. 

"You were beyond perfect." I say. "The way you moved, the way you looked, the way you sounded. That wild shriek that soon turned into a chorus of moans, a wordless prayer offered up to my tongue, your body melting, becoming a liquid pool of desire." 

"How could I ever hope to be satisfied with just one taste?" I ask her, and I have stepped close enough to touch, Belle blinking slowly, repeatedly as my hand cups her cheek. The spell breaks when my thumb brushes soft sensation across her lips, Belle jerking back with a gasp. She immediately crosses her arms over her breasts, her expression unsettled. I wonder just how aroused my words may have made her, just how strongly the memories might have affected her. 

I want to do more than just wonder. I want to free Belle of her clothes, want to put my hand and my mouth all over her, taste and caress every inch. I want to make love to her, and it's such a fierce want in the moment, the lust hitting me like a fist. I'm half hard with just the wanting, with the need that I have for her. I'm almost dizzy with it, the breath rasping out of me faster, and I'm fighting for control, fighting to go against everything my body is telling me to do. I LET Belle back away, let her put some distance between us, and it's not enough to curtail my wanting, but it is enough for me to control myself. 

Barely. 

I look at her, so delectable and wary, and I KNOW sex won't solve anything between us. It won't even be a bandage, feeling good for the moments that it lasts, but ultimately proving nothing where my heart's sincerity is concerned. I have to prove to Belle my feelings first, I have to get her to believe in them and in me. There existed one tiny problem in that. I had no fucking idea how I was going to do just that. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To Be Continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I pretty much freaking hate this chapter. =/ This is actually my second attempt, and I worked on it pretty much all of Sunday (With a break for the new Once episode!). My first attempt, which was like 10 KB before I called it quits, well I worked on it on Saturday until six in the morning...then I woke up a few hours later, and was like this is crap! The only thing I had really liked from THAT attempt, was when I had Hook yelling at Belle (Who was screaming so she didn't hear him) that he was 'fast falling in love with her." I loved that line, but I also felt it didn't fit for this part of the story. So I ended up trashing pretty much everything from the first attempt, and starting over from scratch with the second. 
> 
> AND IT WAS SO SLOW! Like pulling out teeth for every single word. Erg...I feel like the first part is just all rambly, and I'm not too happy when we get to the actual dialogue. I kinda worry I messed up big time with all that talk of Neverland and Emma....but I uh, actually kinda like the ending where they start...well HE starts talking about sexy first time memories. *pervs out* 
> 
> I'm finding I am at an extra difficult part of the story. If I want to have any chance of sticking to my planned plot line, Belle can't just forgive Hook easily. Right now though I am just glad to have this chapter over...though eg...I still have to proof read and spell check. *Cries* 
> 
> Laters...! 
> 
> Michelle


	17. Seventeen

It should be illegal, the way that Hook looks at me. With that focused intensity, with that deep and endless lust. With an open hunger in his gaze that eats away at the color of his eyes, the blue having gone dark with his lust and his desire. It's every filthy thought and desire that he's ever had, Hook's eyes alight with obscene need. Such a look leaves me paralyzed, an answering heat surging through me. I don't just remember that first time in the Queen's tower, I actively relive it, my body starting to shudder in response to the pirate's words. 

My surroundings seem to melt away, the warm earthy tones of the room's decor lost not to the drab grays that had made up my prison, but the one spot of bright color that had been the pirate. The bold splash of red against the black leather, and the dark blue of his eyes as he leaned over me. Hook had stared down at me with all the hunger and want in the world, and it would have taken a stronger, more experienced woman than I had been to have resisted him. 

But I hadn't even tried. I had fallen back in eager invitation, my slim arms wrapped around him, my fingers clawing at his back. I had been wild for him, for the pleasure he was giving me, for the staggering want that Hook had showed me. In that moment I had been desperate, not thinking of anything else, needing him, wanting, ready to die without him. With one touch, I had been addicted, Hook a sweet poison that had swept over me. 

Fever crazed for him, the word no hadn't even been a thought in my mind. Instead a thousand yes had escaped me, my voice whimpering and moaning in breathless amazement. I had let my thighs fall open at his hand's touch, had cried out once, twice in wild shock, his mouth then on me. That wickedly experienced tongue had introduced me to a pleasure most sublime, Hook licking all over my womanly flesh, touching a part of me that no one, not even my own self, had ever. 

In that moment, Hook had become like a God to me. One who I had sang a nonstop litany of praise to, my wordless moans a chorus of encouragement. I had laid on my cot, and danced, Hook's tongue playing a tune that only I could hear, feel, my body ignited. As his tongue had brought me over the edge, I had gushed, my liquid warmth everywhere. The cot's sheets, the inside of my thighs, and especially Hook's mouth and chin. His beard hairs had glistened with it, both my arousal and my climax, the man having made me shudder anew when he had licked his lips slowly and moaned. His eyes had then blazed, Hook having liked my taste. 

With a needy growl of his own, Hook had then cupped my cheek with his good hand. I had stared at him with lust wild eyes, and had nodded, taking the kiss and him inside me. I hadn't even felt nervous, so pleasured addled had Hook made me that my body itself had offered up only the merest token of resistance. For one brief, discomforting second, it had stayed held together, and then with a cry I had split apart, had split for him, Hook deep inside me. 

With my body shaking all around him, Hook had branded me as his. With every thrust of his lean but powerful hips, with every sensual glide inside of his thick and hardened flesh, and with every toe curling spasm, Hook had claimed me as his. In that moment I would have done just about anything for him, would have believed almost any lie. I had been beyond naive, beyond foolish, a girl so thoroughly dazzled by both the pleasure and by the handsome man who had given it to me. 

I won't ever be that girl again. I won't ever again let myself be dazzled by Hook's seductive wiles. It hurts too much otherwise, the pirate having played me for a fool time and time again. I'm smarter now, or so I tell myself, ignoring the way my body tingles in response to his nearness. It's not his hand on my cheek, or his thumb tip brushing over my lips that has me gasping. It's the heartbreaking deception Hook tries to maintain. I step back to escape it, escape him, not able to believe, not even wanting to try. 

He lets me go. Hook lets me put a few steps of distance between us, and he's the one struggling for control. I can see it on his face, the raw, hungry look of a man who is drowning in his lust. I can't possible match that kind of expression, though I hurriedly move to cross my arms over my chest. My nipples burn with a familiar tightening sensation, and press noticeably against the scratchy lace fabric of my bra. I'm sure my cheeks go red in response, and I pray to any God who might be listening that Hook is too lust addled to notice. 

"So..." I say it in a soft voice that almost manages to sound calm. Almost. "The missing year? What can you tell me about it?" 

Now he's the one to blink slowly, though Hook doesn't lose that unsettling focus. He's staring at me like I am his next meal, like it's taking all his strength and his sanity to not march over to me, and just take what he so clearly wants. I try to ignore the answering voice inside me that WANTS to be taken by him. 

"The missing year?" I repeat, a tad more urgently now. "You've been saying we spent much of it together...." 

He blinks again, and I watch as Hook tries to gather his thoughts. Tries to ground himself into a reality that doesn't involve throwing me down onto the nearby bed. 

"That we did, love." He says, and a slight smile plays on his lips. I hug my arms tighter around my body in response, my chin lifting stubbornly as I stare him down. I will not be afraid, and I will not be affected, not by that smile, and not by that husky voiced, hoarse agreement. 

"I can't begin to imagine how that came about." I said out loud. Hook raises one dark eyebrow in question, and I shrug in peevish response. "It's not as though I had anything you wanted." I speak quickly, before he can hurt me with a dozen of his glib lies. "Rumplestiltskin was already DEAD." 

"Do you honestly believe your only value to me was the hurt I could do that crocodile?" Hook demanded with that lust heated look. That level of passion, of want, was enough to make my knees knock together, my body trembling though I prayed the pirate was far enough away to not take note of it. 

"Fine." It hisses out of me like a hoarse whisper. "So maybe you wanted another go? I hardly see THAT as a reason for either you nor I to want to spend a whole year together." 

"It wasn't a full year." He corrects me. "You left two months short of that." 

"Ten months then." I grudgingly acknowledge. "Sex alone is not enough reason....at least it's not enough reason for ME." 

Some his sexual fire fades, Hook sobering to a sad sort of seriousness. "I suppose that's why you ultimately left me....." His look isn't bitter, it's just...odd. Like he's reluctantly come to terms with what had happened. It's such a surprising, genuine show of emotion, that I almost feel sorry for him, for doing what Hook says I ultimately did to him. 

Frowning more at myself than at him, I try to shake free of any sympathy that emotion of his tries to make me feel. "So we know how the story ends...but how did it begin? How did we end up together for ten months?" 

"Oh make no mistakes about it. Our story is far from ended." Hook tells me, and I start to scoff in angry disbelief. 

"Our individual stories perhaps..." 

"No, the story of us." He insists firmly. 

"There is no us!" I snap out in protest. My vision narrows with my glare, my teeth practically grinding together for one second. "Not any more." 

"Oh no, love. You don't get to just decide that. Not THIS time." 

"What is that supposed to mean?!" I demand, unsettled by more than the words and the vehement way they had hissed out of him. He was fixing me with a ruthlessly determined look, one so possessively fueled, that if Hook had taken even one single step towards me, I would have turned tail and run. 

"You got away from me ONCE because you just up and left one night." Hook tells me. That much of the truth seethed in his eyes, Hook hurt by what he was saying that I had done. "If you had given me any inkling of what you were intending..." 

I shivered in response, but out loud I was downright defiant. "From the way you're acting, sneaking off must have been the RIGHT move to make!" I shake my head, my tangled curls bouncing. "What were you going to do to try to stop me? Tie me up and hold me prisoner until I changed my mind?!" 

"Maybe." He's every unflinching inch of the pirate I had always known him to be. "It would have at least given us time to talk." 

"Yes, because I am sure talking was the reason fueling your Neanderthal behavior." 

"I can't claim that as the main reason, but at least if we had BOTH talked to one another, really talked, maybe then....maybe then I would have recognized how unhappy you had been!" He exclaims with a drawn out sigh. My eyes widen at that. "Oh aye.." Hook spoke tiredly now. "It wasn't all rainbows and sunshine that I had offered you. Oh don't get me wrong Belle. I set out and accomplished making you deliriously happy in bed, but out of it? I didn't come close." It was a sad, bitter smile he gave me then. "In truth I don't know how you put up with me, with the situation for so long..." 

I didn't know either, not remembering any of this. The frustration of not knowing, or not remembering, filled me, my eyes dimming with a sadness born of my ability to not remember. 

"Aye love, that's the look." He nodded at me. "Though I don't doubt your reasons for wearing it now are a LOT different from back then." Hook had lost all traces of his lust, looking at me now with a sort of rueful expression. "How often love? How often did you wear it, and how often did I write it off as attributed to your grief over your dead crocodile?" 

"I was a bloody fool!" He suddenly spat with real venom. "Never noticing when it changed, when your grief over the Dark One's passing, when your tears itself became different. You weren't crying for him, you were crying for YOURSELF and for what I was too selfish to give you." 

"And what was that?" I asked Hook softly. "What could I have possibly wanted from you?" 

"Your feelings to be returned for one thing." 

I parted my lips, but no words rushed out. He smiled without real humor to it, and I then shook my head no. "You're not saying that I was in love with you, are you?!" 

"No, I don't think I was THAT lucky." Hook told me. "But you were yearning all the same. With the amount of open longing that you showed, I dare say it could have become love if I had just nurtured it even just a little." 

"Then I am glad you didn't." 

"You say that now, but you wouldn't have back then." He starts to step towards me, and I immediately step back. His hand forms a fist, and his jaw clenches in response, Hook not at all happy with my attempt to retreat. "Belle love, you were STARVED for it. For the deeper connection I had been incapable of giving you..." 

I could imagine it. I had always been the hungry sort, yearning openly for a love of any kind. I didn't often get it, could actually count on my fingers the number of people who I had truly felt more than an casual affinity with. Those genuine friendships I cherished, my life as both a princess and as companion to the Dark One having kept me from making many true and lasting connections.

The faces, the names, whisper through my mind, Ruby, Grumpy, a mermaid named Ariel. All friendships I valued, all people I adored. And yet they couldn't hold a candle to the man in front of me, this darkly dangerous attraction having me in it's firm grip. It--he made me feel things, the good, the bad, and the deeply disturbing. I wanted him in a way I thought was unhealthy, in ways that were beyond love and friendship, and bordering on crazy obsession. 

That obsession scares me. It makes me wonder how much worst it would be, if I could have actually remembered the ten months I had spent with Hook. The ten months he was actively describing, that time lost, but not gone, Hook able to remember. The past glittered alive in his eyes, but the memories weren't all happy.

"We were partners in misery." Hook confirms. "The two grief's that we had each had, it had led us to come together, to share a great many things. Bed, companionship, and most of all empathy." Another bitter twist of his lips. "We had both lost what we thought was our one and only chance at a happy ending. You with your crocodile, and me with my delusions of Emma Swan." 

"I'll never forget that time." He let out a hollow sounding laugh. "Not even if the witch were to curse me. I remember every minute of it, from our arrivals in the old world to the moment I had realized you were gone for good. What's worse than remembering, is acknowledging the wrong I had done you...the hurt I had caused you, that I STILL cause you now. I let Emma Swan color that time, made my fantasy of her render me incapable of being what YOU had needed." 

It was nearly everything I could have wanted him to say, the realization and acknowledgement of my hurt. But it was also that curl of his lips, the way that he sneered Emma Swan's name. Hook acted like he hated her, like he was over the idea of her, and I so badly wanted to believe. 

But I didn't, I couldn't still so wary and untrusting of the game I was sure that Hook was playing. Even as he talked, I was aware of the ugly truth of his words, the undeniable fact that even he had acknowledged, Hook having proved unable to let go of Emma. To let go and to be what I had needed, what a part of me STILL wanted. It was a part of me I desperately fought to deny, not wanting it's need to lead me into believing in the pretty lie that was Hook. 

He was still talking. With that self loathing look in his eyes, Hook moving again to approach me. I blinked repeatedly, and fought my first instincts to run. I LET Him draw close to me, and I tried to focus on something other than the look in his eyes and the feelings doing tumultuous somersaults in my heart.

"I'll never forget that storm heavy time or the days before it." He was saying. "When the queen's curse first broke, we didn't all return together. No. People popped up all over the enchanted forest, and it would take weeks before most were able to find and reunite with their families." 

"Some were luckier than others." Hook said. "When the curse broke, when the magic brought us back, a small few arrived together. I was among that small group of of people, perhaps twenty in all appearing before the princess and her husband on that sun bright, beautiful day." He had touched my hand then, and I found the ability to speak. 

"The princess?" 

"Sleeping Beauty herself, Aurora." Hook explained. "She and Phillip were out enjoying a midday picnic, when the group of us suddenly appeared. Among those in that group? Charming and his princess, and the despondent evil queen. Regina couldn't care less about me or any of the others, but Snow White and her husband had tried their hardest to get me to stay." 

"But you didn't." I note. That quiet sound of my voice can't hold the bitter jealousy that I feel. "Because Emma wasn't there..." 

"Because my happy ending was gone." Hook corrected, taking hold of my hand. "With no chance of it, I saw no point in pretending, in trying to be the kind of person that Emma would have wanted me to be. I left her parents and those people, and I left before the hour was up. I hadn't a real thought in my head, no plan for the immediate future save one. And that was to find the Jolly Roger....but fate inevitably had other plans." 

He gave my hand a gentle squeeze, and smile encouragingly at me. "Can you guess? Can you possibly know the person who would set me off balance, my admittedly limited plans for the future derailed by the prettiest blue eyes I have ever had the privilege to see?"

I was admittedly flattered but tried not to be, "Me....?" It was a wary but ultimately correct guess.

Hook nodded. "Yes, you. On a storm bitter day, along what had once been known as the evil queen's road, there you were. All alone and shivering, with just a thin forest green colored cloak to protect you from the bad weather that was threathening." 

"And it was the kindness of your heart that got you to stop?" I asked wryly. 

"Don't be absurd." Hook flippantly replied back. "My horse nearly ran you down before I recognized you. I tried to stop the big, burly beast, and ended up thrown for my efforts. Somehow you came away without a scratch, while I had bruised backside, and an even more battered soul." 

"I can't imagine you being very happy about that." 

"Oh I wasn't!" He immediately agreed. "I was all set to lay into you, to give you a piece of my mind, when it happened." 

"The storm?" I hazard a guess. 

"That would come later." Hook was openly grinning now. "Ever the concerned busy body, you hurried over to check on me. Seeing as I was still sitting on the ground, it put me at just the right eye level for when you bent over me." 

"Are you saying...." I tried to pull my hand free of his, but his fingers grasped firm hold of my wrist. 

"Aye I am." He nodded. "You and your considerable charms, were quite a welcome sight. Especially with them heaving against that straining tight corset." 

"You're a pig." I haughtily sniffed. 

"A bit of a letch perhaps." Hook acknowledged. "But the sight of all that milky white skin quivering, it helped remind me that I wasn't yet dead." 

"How nice for you." My voice was like ice, and I was still trying to get my hand free. 

"Nice for you as well." Hook wriggled his eyebrows at me while flashing a cheeky little smirk. "Oh, it's not as though I just threw you down to the road, though heaven knows that pure shot of lust certainly wanted me to!" 

"I'm glad you controlled yourself then...." 

"It just about killed me to hold off." He confessed. "But then you're the kind of delicious that any man would have trouble saying no to..." 

"Stop with the flirting and the feeble attempts at flattery." I mutter. "What happened AFTER you stopped leering at me?" 

"It wasn't a leer." He came off offended. "It was a great deal of ogling, but it was a sight you had freely offered." 

I fixed him with a glare that had withered men for less. It was all the more offensive to find Hook was immune to my expressed irritation. "Hook...." 

"Easy love, no need to get angry." He tried for a soothing tone, his thumb caressing over the back of my hand. "Especially when that wasn't all you had offered." 

My mouth fell open in shock, his name sputtering out of me. "Hook!?' 

He laughed, his eyes twin pools of blue pleasure. "You were SO happy to see me, to see anyone, really. After wandering the forest alone for three days, you were aglow with relief. You had so many questions, and you kept touching my arms to make sure I was really there. But more than that you were adamant that we stay together, for protection and for company's sake. I hardly was inclined to talk you out of such notions, and no it wasn't because I had an ulterior motive." 

"If not an ulterior motive, then what?" I sounded cross even to my own ears. 

"It was the look in your eyes." Hook explained. "The relief and that initial burst of happiness to see me, couldn't keep the sadness and grief from swallowing you whole. Oh, you tried to put on a brave face, to hide it from the world, but there is no denying that kind of pain. Your heart had been shattered, all real hope for your future lost. You were grieving him, but also your lost happy ending, and it was like looking into a mirror of my own soul." 

His hook pressed gently against my lips. "Now I don't want to hear you say anything about the savior. The loss of her wasn't anything on the level of what you were feeling. No, if anything I recognized in you the very same grief I had gone through when my Mila was killed." 

"But you were still hurting..." I said when he had finally lowered his hook. 

"Oh I don't deny it." Hook gave a nod. "Emma...the chance of a happy ending that she had deluded me into thinking was possible, it opened up a lot of old wounds. Made me remember the woman that I had actually loved, the happy ending that for a short time we had been living, and how it had all been taken away. THAT was the pain I saw consuming you, and that was the kind of pain that we commiserated on. We were two lost souls, and at some point in the months that had followed, we both became obsessed with a second chance at happiness." 

"Is that so wrong?" I wondered. "After all, doesn't everyone want to be happy...?" 

"That they do, love. That they do." He agreed. "But the thing about happiness, is that it's sometimes found where we least expect to find it. And sometimes we don't know enough to see it until it's too late.." Hook's eyes were troubled again. "I was so consumed with it, with going after what I thought was my second chance at happiness. I was obsessed with Emma, with finding a way back to her..that I didn't take note of the very real opportunity in front of me...or the fact that you were wanting a chance of it with me." 

My brow furrowed, and it was my gaze that was now troubled. "What are you saying...? That I wanted my happy ending to be with you?" I gave an unconvincing laugh when he nodded. "Don't be absurd. I couldn't have wanted that..." 

"You wouldn't have stayed with me as long as you did, if you weren't having very real feelings for me." Hook retorted. "I was just too blind, no too stupid, too careless to take heed. I trampled all over your heart and your feelings, and I am fortunate you stayed with me as long as you did." 

He said it with real feeling, the look in his eyes sincere with genuine regret. It played havoc on my own heart's response to him, what I wanted to feel at odds with what I should actually. There was no way I could forgive him, no way I should even be considering it, and yet I was tempted all the same. I took it to mean there was some gluttonous defect within me, some masochistic tendency that didn't care what Hook did, or how badly he would continue to hurt me. It wanted to overlook the games, and the abuse, the many ways he had used me. 

It almost left me glad that I couldn't remember the missing year, that I couldn't remember the ten months I had spent with Hook. I had walked away from him once, and I think if I had remembered that, I wouldn't have had the strength to try that a second time. Hook's not a man you can walk away easily from, and most women wouldn't have cared enough to even try. 

I wasn't like most women, and I had never been. Not here in Storybrooke, and certainly not back in the Enchanted Forest. But even at my most stubborn and head strong, I couldn't fight my attraction to Hook. Most days I hadn't even wanted to try, and I can only wonder and marvel at the strength and endurance I must have once had. That same strength and endurance I must find again, if I am to have any chance of long term resisting him. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------- 

To Be Continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Debating on if I should tinker with this chapter some more or not. Have a love hate relationship going with this one, though it was a lot easier ultimately to write than sixteen was! I dragged my heels on starting it though, cause part of me just wasn't feeling up to talking about the missing year. Then I warmed up to it, and gosh darn it, I still have more to reveal for next chapter. I didn't get to state it in this one, and I hope I do next chapter, but I imagined they had grief sex while the sky opened. Yes, rainy soothe me sexual encounter in some forest glade! 
> 
> I kinda like this chapter....but I kinda don't. I like the dialogue, but it's just at this time (Unless I tinker some more) it felt like I presented it with too much talking, and not enough thoughts and action. But I am fed up and hungry at this point. X_X So I am gonna proof read, and go get something to eat. 
> 
> Okay roughly ten hours later I did do some tweaking. Like twelve whole new paragraphs worth of writing! I am still not one hundred percent satisfied, but I like it much better NOW! Yay!
> 
> Laters! 
> 
> \---Michelle


	18. Eighteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick head's up. 10 hours later and I DID go back and tinker some more with 17. I ended up with about six hundred more words, so I do think it might be worth checking out to see the new paragraphs added. It improves the chapter a lot in my opinion, though I am still not one hundred percent satisfied with it. But better than I was! 
> 
> \---Michelle

The crocodile's kitchen was as strange a place as any I had ever seen, all manner of large, rectangular shaped metal boxes and cold surfaces filling it. There wasn't a wood countertop to be found, the sleek white and gray metal everywhere. A dozen warped reflections of my own self showed on those surfaces, my eyes shining with displeasure as I got my first real exposure to what passed for modern in this hi-tech world. 

I didn't like it. Not the look of the kitchen, and certainly not the difficulty I was having in navigating my way around it's stove. I eyed that large contraption with mistrust, not seeing a pit for it's fire. Nor did I find any wood or coal, the stove and the way that it worked a mystery to me. It might as well have been an ancient magic, some malevolent devising of the Dark One himself. 

Not trusting the stove not to explode, I didn't come close to touching the strange protrusions on it's front. If it came to it, I would start a fire in the yard and cook Belle her breakfast THAT way. But before I could do even that much, I had to discover just where the kitchen's larder was kept. There didn't seem to be much of a clue, the kitchen holding a sterile feel to it's cold surroundings. Everything was hidden away in it's rightful place, I just had to FIND it. 

To that end, I began a cautious exploration. A metal drawer were pulled open, revealing to me neat rows of kitchen cutlery. Knives, forks, and spoons, all bearing a gold colored pattern. I grimaced and slammed the drawer shut, and tried a cabinet next. Dishes and lots of them, all bearing the gold pattern across an otherwise white surface. Crystal clear wine glasses were off to the side, and an idle thought had me wondering just where the Dark One kept his liquor. I'd find a crystal decanter of some strong smelling cooking wine in yet another cabinet, along with other bottles of various liquids and sprays that I had no use for. 

There was a rack hanging over the center counter, dangling a variety of stainless steel colored pots and pans. I took one of the larger pans down, and set it aside for later use. I'd next find the spices, the salt, and the pepper and many other things, both known to me and not. The cool blast of air that next greeted me, nearly had me slam the door shut. It was only the sight of some food covered in frost, that had me take another look inside the tall box. 

The most curious of pantry's found, I had discovered that while winter in all it's cold glory existed inside that box, it was only to one side. The other door of the pantry, was much warmer, and packed to brimming with all manner of food. With a triumphant sound released, I set about to picking out the things needed to make Belle her breakfast. 

Eggs, milk and bits of bacon to start with. I mixed it all into one of the larger bowls that I had found, and then began flavoring the concoction with some spice. From above me, I heard the loud sounds of the shower stop, but I didn't once call out to rush her. Belle needed this time, and not just to get clean but to process her thoughts, her feelings on the things I had told her. It was a lot to take in, and that wasn't taking into account the fact that I had only just touched upon the surface of that missing year. There was ten months worth of memories to give her, ten months of feelings, of the highs and the many lows. I wasn't proud of the last, not wanting to think on just how much I had hurt her. How much I continued to still hurt her. But I was trying not to. Trying and failing if judging by the hurt look that had still remained in her eyes just before I had left to come down to the kitchen. 

I sighed then. I could recognize the battle was just beginning, that we both still had a long, winding road ahead of us. Emma Swan was just one of the bumps along it's path, my own shallow self absorption and cruelty the more perilous of those pitfalls. I had been selfish, I had been unkind, but more than that I had been blatantly stupid. I had let Emma Swan twist us both around, and had willfully ignored the woman that had been right in front of me. Beautiful Belle, with her brave but hurting soul, fighting so hard for us and for so long for us. And I had damaged her heart in return. Time and time again I had pummeled it, had actually run roughshod over it, and never had the sad longing inside it gone completely extinguished. She had maintained, and it was more than desire, and more than just longing, but a wistful kind of adoration that had gone unrequited for too long. 

I look back now, and I see it, see all of it, every second of Belle's hurt. The longing looks in her eyes, the naked vulnerability on her face. The pain that had often had tears glistening in her eyes, a pain I had wrongfully wrote off and attributed to Rumplestiltskin's passing. She had actually been crying because of me, and Belle had cried right up until the night that she had left me. 

I had actually been annoyed by her tears. By that prolonged sadness that had seemed to grow worse not better the more that time had passed. She had been crying more and more often, not a day passing without a tear at least glistening in her eyes.She didn't always try to hide it, she couldn't, Belle distraught and I had been the real cause. And I hadn't even acknowledged it, blaming another, blaming Rumplestiltskin and it had only served to make me angry. At her, at him, a green jealousy upon me. I had been half mad with it, not willing to share her. Not even with a memory that should have been long buried ten months ago. 

It was selfishly ironic, my own expectations of Belle and of what she should have been feeling. I had wanted her over Rumplestiltskin, over even the memory of him, and yet I hadn't been willing to do the same. I had clung to Emma Swan, to the memory, to the delusion. I had been mad with it, with her, with the fantasy of my lost chance at a happy ending. I hadn't seen what was right in front of me, what was waiting for just the chance of it. I had turned my back on the happiness I could have seized for Belle and I both, instead leaving it on shambles on our cottage's floor. I broke it and I almost broke her, Belle leaving before her own heart ended up totally beyond repair. 

I can't even lie and say that things wouldn't have gotten that bad. That things wouldn't have turned out even more catastrophic and insane, if Belle had first come to and admitted to me her unhappiness, and her decision to leave me. I had been too selfish, too callow, too cruel. I would have most likely laughed, not giving a damn about her unhappiness, about anything, but keeping her with me. I would have kept on using her, hurting her, and never would I have realized just how grievous a sin I was committing against Belle. 

Even after she had left, it had taken me time, many of my realizations not having come until just about a day ago. The veil of anger had clung to me for too long, my hurt ego and my claims of hatred working together to convince me that I was the wronged party in all of this. I had built Belle up to be the villain, to blame her for everything that had gone wrong between us. It hadn't stopped me from wanting her, from fucking her, that irresistible pull between us making me wild and out of control. I had burned for her, and I had wanted to punish her, for Belle's supposed lies and betrayals, the abandonment I had felt she had no right to do. 

I had let my lust and my anger cloud my memories, distorting the naked truth of that time. I tortured myself with how I had imagined Belle had used ME, and how she had made me a laughing stock of the kingdoms. I had seethed with resentment, with thwarted desire but had been unable to take a replacement. There had been no shortage of women willing to be had, save for the one I had actually burned for. Belle, the memory of her, had obsessed me, had haunted me as much if not more than the delusions of Emma Swan and her promise of happy endings had. I had felt betrayed by both, by Emma, by Belle, neither one giving me my happiness, neither one sticking around long enough to try. The ten months that Belle had spent with me had amounted to nothing, I was just as angry, just as bitter as ever, and more alone than I could have ever remembered feeling. 

Set adrift by Belle, I had truly convinced myself of her conniving true self. I had been grasping at straws, Belle having taken nothing from me that wasn't already rightfully hers. She hadn't been interested in my money, and hadn't had any mad agenda that could be furthered by being with me. If anything, her life would have been easier had she distanced herself a lot soon than she had, Belle a princess who had deserved a whole lot better than some mangy pirate. 

She still deserves better. And I'm still so inherently selfish, unwilling, unable to walk away, to let her go. It's exactly the reason why Belle had been so smart to sneak away like she had once done, my inability to let go, to even try to, making me cling harder to her. I'm obsessed not just with the wanting of her, but the having, and every memory I now recall, only makes my resolve strengthened. Because I examine our past with new eyes, see the things I hadn't been able to before. I see Belle, the longing she had had for me, the affection and the sheer and utter way she had adored me. 

It hadn't been love, but it had been close. And no memory spoke stronger of that unrequited feeling, than the memory of the hours leading up to the night that Belle had walked out on me. It's a memory that has always filled me with bitter regret, with a mad kind of anger that is also fueled by a lustful insanity. Because even at my most furious, the memory hadn't stopped me from WANTING Belle. 

That wanting hits me now, transporting me to different time, a different place. I don't see Rumplestiltskin's kitchen with it's modern monstrosities, but the polished wood oak walls of the cottage home I had once shared with Belle. I see the velvet tapestries, see the many bright colors and cozy attempts at making the cottage a real home. She had tried so hard at even that, Belle trying to build a life together with me, or at least the illusion of one. I had tolerated her efforts, had spoiled her with all the money that I could get my hand on. Small fortunes of stolen silver and gold that had allowed us to live in luxurious comfort. It was nothing like she was used to as a princess of Avonlea, but Belle had never minded that. She had never outwardly minded much of anything, not even my less than legal dealings. I suppose after living with the Dark One, a pirate and his crimes were mild sins in nature compared to the evils that Rumplestiltskin had once committed. 

It didn't mean that Belle wasn't fearful, that she didn't worry for me and because of me. She was rightfully frightened of what would happen, of the people I might hurt, and of the people who might hurt ME. I had always reassured her, pointing out that I was a survivor first and foremost. Each of the few scars that were found on my body having attested to that. Belle would take comfort from the sight of them, even as the thought of HOW I had gotten those scars, had sent hard shudders rocking through her. 

I did my best to not get any more, to not leave room to trouble Belle in that way. She still always insisted on checking my body after each and every dangerous heist, the woman needing to confirm with her own eyes I was still whole. I smiled at the memory of what that confirmation inevitably always led too, neither one of us able to resist keeping things from turning sexual. And each time was a celebration, of life and of each other. 

It was a pattern that had gone unchanged for nearly all the time that we had been together. Belle may have not always liked what I was up to, but she respected me enough to not try and distract me until AFTER I was safely back. It didn't always mean that I was capable of behaving in turn. I was a pirate and a very lustful man, and Belle was a delectable morsel that belonged all to me. I was very much spoiled, the need to have her hitting me hard, and the time and place didn't matter, not even the fact that I was planning the most dangerous heist yet of my land bound career. 

What HAD been surprising, was Belle's own eager response. She hadn't even put up a token resistance, ablaze with a passion, with a need that had been downright desperate. She had thrown herself into the moment, Belle more wild than I could ever recall her being. It was Belle who had pushed me down to the bed, Belle who had tried to pin me in place and I had been only too happy to oblige. 

Her weight had been a pleasant press on me, Belle all soft curves and smooth skin. Her thighs had spread around my leather clad hips, Belle rocking in place over the hard, straining bulge of me. Her needy whimper, the gasp that had escaped her, all of it is forever seered in my mind's memory. That sound, and the look on her face, that wild broken look, Belle having cried out, shuddering against me, as she brought her lips crashing down onto mine. And then her hands were everywhere, SHE was everywhere, her mouth kissing all over my bare torso, tongue even tracing a firm line across my abdomen. 

For one trembling moment, her lips had paused over the beat of my heart. Over the scar there, some bastard pirate's cutlass having cut me open some two hundred years prior to my having met Belle. The teardrops that had followed, hadn't lessen her passion one bit, Belle meeting my eyes, bold as can be as she had lapped her tongue across that scar's remains. 

"It's all right." I had started to say, my one attempt to reassure lost to the trembling smile she had given me. Belle had neither agreed, nor disagreed with me, had merely pressed an open mouthed kiss across that scar. I should have known then that something had been very wrong, Belle overcome with a teary eyed emotion that hadn't stopped her from tearing at the leather laces of my pants. That had pushed all thoughts of her tears from my mind, my heated blood boiling, Belle's clever hand inside, gripping me with those silk soft fingers of hers. 

I had moaned out a yes, and had settled back on my elbows, watching Belle through a slit gaze. She had stroked up and down the length of my erection, had kept right on kissing at my bare torso. She had held my gaze as she had done it, watching as every impure thought had flit across my face. Her hand on my cock had been driving me wild, Belle having offered just enough sensation to keep me sweating. It had been all I could do to have not taken over, to have not thrown Belle down, and taken the relief I had so desperately needed from inside her. I had actually growled when she had slipped downwards, Belle having no longer straddled me. I had been so crazed in the moment, so hurting with raw need, that I hadn't guessed at her true intent. Not until her mouth had closed around me, the searing silk heat a welcome brand that had had my toes curling in their boots. 

I had cried out her name, had started to reach for her, and then she had bobbed her head. I had thought I had stood at the cusp of Heaven before, but now? Now I had passed through the gates of it, Belle the sweet merciful angel that was guiding me through paradise. Belle had moaned as she had done it, her voice expressing a keen enjoyment at the self appointed task she had thrown herself into. That enjoyment vibrated through me, her every moan, every hum, a sound that I felt all the way down to the very base of me. 

Her hair, those heavy ringlets colored a healthy shining brown had danced across my lap. They had bobbed and weave with her movements, brushing against me, caressing a sensation that was uniquely their own on my fevered skin. I had stretched out beneath her, had moaned and had arched my hips upwards, silently begging, pleading for Belle to take me deeper yet. She had not disappointed, and had not complained, even as it couldn't have been all that pleasant for her. Instead she had moaned more, Belle's hands busy on my hips, helping to haul me closer with her nails digging encouragement into my flesh. 

It hadn't taken long to get me tipping over the edge. To get me screaming. I had shouted out a warning, had tried to haul Belle off of me, but she had locked arms around me. pressing me all the more insistently against her mouth. She had swallowed me down, had swallowed my release and she had done it gladly. She hadn't just accepted it, Belle had actively worked to encourage it, her mouth a sweet suction that had continued even after I had started to come. With every pull of her lips, more seed had jettisoned out of me, Belle wringing out every drop, drinking it down, drinking me down to the point it had almost hurt. My sweet merciful angel had revealed herself to be a relentless demon, stealing all rhyme and reason from me. 

With a wild growl of my own, I had descended upon her. She had let out a gasp, had found herself on her back, her skirts shoved back, revealing Belle's smooth thighs, and the fact that her silk panties had matched the blue bows that had decorated the otherwise wholly white stockings covering her legs. That shock of color against all that pale flesh and white stockings had been a boldly arresting combination, and if I hadn't had already been driven mad with lust, I would have gone crazed then. As it was, I had fallen on her absolutely ravenous, my hook tearing to shreds the bright blue panties. Her bared sex had positively glistened, Belle soaked with excitement over what she had done to me. 

It had been a glorious sight, Belle so magnificent and wanton a woman and all MINE. With my nostrils flaring, I had hauled her against me, her spread thighs cradling around my head. They hadn't been able to muffle the wild shriek that she had let herself voice, Belle crying out, shaking with an immediate climax at the first lavish swipe of my tongue. I hadn't been anywhere close to being satisfied, settling down for the long haul as I set out to pay her back in spades. My tongue so eager for her taste, had dug in with relish, every velvet furled inch of her being caressed. Every dip and swirl of my tongue had set off spasms in her, Belle shaking, crying out, but never once telling me to actually stop. 

I wouldn't have stopped. Not even if she had begged me to. With her own actions, Belle had unleashed the wild monster inside of me, and it would be hours before the worst of it's lustful fury would be tamed. And when it was all over, when we had both fallen against the bed sheets, panting and flush faced, and thoroughly satisfied a dozen times over, I had managed to gasp out in chiding admiration. 

"Bloody hell woman!" I had barely been able to speak, barely able to think, and certainly not able to look at her without lust firing in my veins all over again. "I'll only be gone for one night!" 

Belle had made a sound then, some tortured half sob I had written off to exhaustion. I had pulled her close to me, intending only to snuggle, but suddenly she had been rolling on top of me. 

"Belle?" I had been confused, giving her a weak smile. "Love, it'll be all right..." 

She had shook her head, her eyes having glistened with newly returned tears. Concern had struggled to find it's way past the sexual exhaustion that I had been feeling, and then Belle had been touching me, her fingers on my face, touching my cheeks, my brow, and especially my lips. I had been bemused as I kissed at her fingertips, trying to get her to smile. If anything Belle had teared up even more, one lone drop slinking it's way down one perfect cheek. 

I had touched her then, cupping my hand over that wet cheek as Belle had closed her eyes and had nodded. 

"I am sorry." Is all she had said, and fool that I had been, I had thought she had been apologizing for so thoroughly arousing me in that way. Now I know better, now I know that Belle had already known that she was going to leave me. She hadn't wanted too, but Belle also hadn't been able to keep on living the way that she--that we had. She had deserved better, had needed to be with a man who wouldn't rip out her heart time and time again with what he hadn't been able to give her. 

All that time and I had never even realized the total suffering that she had been enduring while with me. The suppressed hopes and dashed dreams, and the complete lack of true happiness. Sex alone hadn't been enough, would never be enough. A woman like Belle isn't able to settle, needs love and companionship and genuine friendship to survive. She needs to be happy, and that's something I've yet to be able to give her, had yet to even try to. It's most likely something I would have never even have attempted, unable to see, unable to recognize how I had been hurting her even after Belle had left me. The bitter betraying blow that that leaving had dealt me, couldn't excuse my own willful ignorance. Instead of being so hateful and angry, I should have tried to be understanding. When we had met once again in Storybrooke, I should have tried to TALK with her, rather than use her loss of memory as an opportunity for both vengeance and a means to take out my bitter, bitter disappointments. 

I had been needlessly cruel, no beyond that. I had been an angry, punishing brute, a bully who had hadn't wanted to lose his favorite toy. I had told myself that I had hated Belle, but really I had hated the way she had still been able to make me feel. I hadn't wanted to be so hopelessly attracted to a woman who had abandoned me, who had purposefully made the decision to just up and leave. That same part had resented Belle, had resented the way she had not only left, but had completely disappeared. She hadn't wanted to be found, hadn't wanted me to come drag her back, and damn if she wouldn't still be missing if the curse hadn't brought us all back to Storybrooke! 

I had been lucky, WE had been lucky. The witch and her curse may be up to no end of evil but Zelena had accomplished ONE good thing with it. She had reunited me with Belle, and with danger's every close call, had opened my eyes to what I had been ignoring. Not just the woman, but the truth of that time together, the not so secret longing of Belle's heart. I'd be a complete and utter fool to waste this opportunity, to squander what may be my very last chance. I let go completely of that vengeance that I had sought, that had driven me to punish her, and now move to simply adore her. To cherish Belle in the way that she was meant to be, the beauty a woman that was made to be loved both in and out of bed. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

To Be Continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So....yeah....a smut heavy flashback chapter. Oopsie! Actually I had wanted his memory to briefly touch upon that first time back in the enchanted forest. That rainy sex filled time in some forest glade, but at the last possible second I realized it would fit better to have him remember about the last time together with Belle in the enchanted forest. 
> 
> I'm feeling kind of tired, so can't think of anything else that I might want to babble about. X_X 
> 
> Would love any feedback you all might have for me! :) 
> 
> Laters! 
> 
> \---Michelle


	19. Nineteen

A noise would draw me out of my thoughts. That same sound would pull me free of the memories, of the time and place they had transported me to. The cottage and it's homey decor, it's warm, cozy colors and lived in feel traded for the cold, sterile environs of Rumplestiltskin's kitchen. I found myself blinking rapidly, trying to reconcile myself with the differences, when I heard it again. Belle, her voice, calling out my name in a concerned tone. That genuine concern surprised me, made me again think of the missing year. Of the ten months we had spent together, and how Belle's concerned feelings hadn't been such a rare expression back then. 

Now, not so much. With all I had been doing to her, Belle hadn't had very much reason to show me warm, soft hearted feelings. She definitely hadn't had cause to feel worry for me, though I know I have given her plenty of reason to fear. With my unpredictable behavior, my anger and my hostility, and my cruel, obsessive need to punish and to have her, Belle must have spent a great many sleepless nights worrying because of me. What repercussions had she feared, what outcome had Belle imagined would result from my behavior? And yet until fairly recently, she hadn't once told me no, hadn't once tried to stop me, or tried to put an end to the trysts. There was a part of her that HAD enjoyed them, had enjoyed me, and I was certain I could coax that side out once again. 

Of course seducing Belle's body had never been the real problem. It was her heart that I had to work on, that I had to renew with the strength of my conviction and determination. I had to get her to believe, to make her actively trust me again. Only then would she surrender, would she melt and yield to me a prize far greater than sexual satisfaction. And once her heart was had, I would take the utmost care with it and with her, never squandering this last chance I had been given. It wouldn't be the enchanted forest all over again, it would be BETTER, for Belle and for me. 

Smiling with that hard determination gleaming in my eyes, I turned towards the sound of her. It was that of Belle's footsteps, her heeled shoes making a noisy click on the hard floor leading into the kitchen. She'd enter into the room with a downright defiant flair, her chin held at a haughty height as Belle met and matched my determined gaze with one of her own. I arched an eyebrow at her, at the unspoken challenge she threw my way, but more than that my gaze drifted towards how she had dressed. It was pretty enough, but there was a practicality to the outfit as well. A studious attempt to downplay her natural born sexual appeal. Practically every inch of her was covered, from her neck on down to her toes, Belle wearing a long sleeved turtle neck dress and a paler shade of tights that complimented the bold navy blue of her outfit. 

I said nothing out loud, though inwardly I was amused. Yes she had covered herself well, but the woman failed to realize how tightly the dress clung to her body. Especially to her breasts and shapely bottom, the fabric straining to hold her all in. She was a sight, a visual feast for my eyes, and it was all I could do to keep the counter between us. 

The lust must have shown on my face, Belle's determination now shaken. That uncertainty made her hesitate, Belle looking for all the world like she might again run. I couldn't predict what would happen if she did try to flee, save for the fact that I would give chase. I would always give chase, and here in the small town of Stroybrooke, she stood no chance of just simply disappearing like she had back in the enchanted forest. 

"You must be starving at this point." I say out loud, using her hunger as the incentive in which to entice Belle to stay. She hesitates, and then nods slowly, not coming closer, but not leaving either. "When is the last time you can remember eating?" 

"Aside from the coffee?" She asks. "Sometime before Neal came crashing back into our lives..." 

I lose my smile then, and actually glower at her. "That's no good, love!" I reprimand her. "You really are going to work yourself sick at this rate." 

Belle doesn't actually argue, nodding her head with a weary, sullen acceptance. I take that as a small victory, and gentle my expression. "Don't worry love, I'm here to help." 

She doesn't look very trusting of me or my brand of helping, but Belle doesn't question it either. At least not out loud, the woman stepping more fully into the kitchen. I'd smile encouragement at her, and gesture with the long wooden mixing spoon I had been using. 

"I was just about to start cooking your breakfast." 

"You cook?!" Belle exclaims in surprise. 

"Aye, I can manage my way around MOST kitchens." I tell her, then let out a put upon sigh. "Though the crocodile's...." 

"Maybe I better help." Belle says in immediate reply. 

My smile widens in response, the honest pleasure in my gaze making her blush. "I would love that." 

She puts on an apron, the white fabric standing out in stark contrast against the dark blue of her dress. Belle is tying it in place as she walks, the woman coming close to the counter. But she doesn't come around to my side of it, too intent on using it to maintain a barrier between us. 

"What are you making?" She asks. 

"An egg and bacon omelette." I look down at the mixture which had been a staple of a good breakfast back in the enchanted forest. It had also been one of Belle's favorite ways to start off each day, though a good, hearty meal hadn't been the only thing she had liked about early mornings. It was the unguarded moments, the waking in bed together. It wasn't always about sex, though Belle herself had been just as insatiable for it as I. There had been a camaraderie there, that went beyond sexual passion. Yes, there were mornings where we just made love in a frenzied manner, but there was also the times where we did nothing but talk. 

Sometimes we ended up doing both, Belle laying in the embrace of my arms, replete with exhaustion and sexual satisfaction. She would positively glow with it, her kiss swollen lips smiling as the woman traced idle patterns on my skin. The play of her finger tips on my abdomen was always able to stir my lust even when I was at my most sexually exhausted. 

It-SHE made it difficult to concentrate on much of anything else. With the press of her bare breasts against my naked flesh, with Belle sighing warmth on my skin, all my troubles and concerns, and most of all obsessions, had faded away to nothing. In that bed that we had shared, little else had mattered to me more, than the woman next to me, Belle a living, breathing, tangible fantasy made real. One I had completely taken for granted. Through my own neglect I had pushed her away, and it was MY fault that Belle had chosen to leave. 

My knuckles go white with how hard I now grip the mixing spoon. There's still pain associated with the memory, even now that I understand why Belle had done it. I try to push it back, try not to think on how shocked and devastated she had left me, or on how with her leaving, the only light in my life had been extinguished. I had been plunged into darkness, and I hadn't cared enough to try and scramble out. 

I do that now. I claw and fight my way free, fight past the anger and shock, and even past the fears. I look at Belle and let the knowledge gleam in my eyes, the certainty that I am not letting her go. Not this time, not never. 

It bother hers. Not so much the expression on my face, but what that look in my eyes screams. The unavoidable truth that I am never going to go away. There's a relentless edge to that sentiment. One that leaves me ready to do just about anything. 

"Ah." Belle had looked down. "That's my favorite.." 

"I know." The smug certainty in my voice, drew her startled gaze back towards mine. I grinned. "We had this for breakfast almost every day.." I reached for a spice bottle, flavoring the omelette with just the right amount. "To the point I thought I'd be happy if I never had to eat another bite of omelette ever again." My expression sobered. "I was wrong." 

"Do you expect me to be sorry?" She asks softly. "For leaving?" 

"For the longest time I did want exactly that. No, I wanted that and more..." The admittance was rough on me. "I wanted you to hurt and I wanted you to know real regret. I let the shock and devastation of your leaving, blind me to the ugly truth of it. You hadn't left me out of some perverse desire to wrong me. You had left because you were already hurting, because I was ripping apart your heart daily. I wasn't just hurting you, I was destroying you." 

I watched the quick blink of her eyes, the raw honesty of my words taking Belle by surprise. It was clear she hadn't expected me to be quite this truthful and just as clear was how easily that truth disarmed her. 

I gave her a sad, bitter look in response. "It took me a long time to realize that is what I had been doing. For the longest time I had blamed you, and I had blamed him, lying to myself that the reason for your unhappiness had nothing to do with me, and everything to do with the crocodile." 

"You..." Belle had to clear her throat before she could get the words out. "You said that I had grieved him. Was that true?" 

"Aye." I sighed. "I can't say I much liked it. I felt it a waste of a good woman, and a waste of her tears. But I understood...grudging though it might have been. You were mourning him, and you were mourning what you thought was your lost chance at a happy ending." 

"My lost chance..." She murmured softly, closing her eyes for one brief second. But I had seen the pain, seen the way the idea of it affected Belle still. 

"Ridiculous, isn't it?" I ask her, and startled, she snaps open her eyes. "Pinning all our happiness and our hopes on just one person. Acting as if we can't go on without them, as if life itself won't continue." 

"It does." Belle admits. "It goes on, and it hurts..." 

"It does indeed." I agreed. "And it should hurt...but not for forever. A lass as young and vital as you, well there's always the chance for more." My smile is gentle now, and I so badly want to reach out to her. But the counter remains in between us. "There's no way a heart like yours can NOT love again...and all it takes is some encouragement..." 

"Is THAT what you did?" She asks me. 

"No, but I wish now that I HAD." It's fervent hiss out of me, my eyes staring hard at Belle with all the regret and sheer frustration I felt over my own stupidity of that time. "But at that time, I was incapable of it, unable to acknowledge, unable to even recognize what it was that you had needed and longed for. My own heart was closed, unwilling, unable to believe in the chance right in front of me." 

"Then how....?" Belle asks, her expression troubled. "Then how did I even come to..to long for that which you could not give me?" 

"God if I knew that...!" I exclaim with an agonized passion. She shifted uncertainly, actually looked close to trembling in response. "Belle, love...we wouldn't even need to have this conversation if I had even an inkling of how to win you over." 

She shook her head no. "You might as well give up then." 

"I've never been a man to give up easily." I tell her with all my determination blazing. "I've dogged Rumplestiltskin for some three hundred years, and I'll live another three hundred if that is what it takes to convince you..." 

"Convince me of what exactly!" Her hands are fists on her hips, Belle glaring at me. "To love you?" She made a mocking little scoffing sound. "Right now, I don't even like you!" 

I steel my gaze at her. "And yet you've let thoughts of me, and of my misplaced interest in one Emma Swan, tear you up inside." Belle again tries to scoff, but I speak over her attempts to deny it. "Oh aye, you're hurting over it, and over me too. I can't even be truly sorry for that pain, and do you want to know why?" I lean over the counter, watch as a mesmerized Belle holds herself absolutely still. "Because there is a part of me that is thrilled, THRILLED to know you can still care so much as to let yourself fall sick with jealousy and heartbreak." 

"You..." Belle shakes. "You're a cold hearted sadist." 

"At least I am not lying to myself about what I feel." I counter calmly. 

"No, you're just DELUDING yourself!" She snaps angrily. "Hook, I...don't like you, and I don't like what I am hearing. It actually makes me glad for the curse, for the fact that I can't remember. And do you want to know why?" Belle asks, then ruthlessly continues without waiting for my answer. "Because from the sound of it, there was nothing but endless pain and misery from when I spent those ten months with you." 

"Aye, there was that." I agree. "But there was also SOME happiness." I pick up the mixing bowl. "Shall I tell you of it?" I inquire in a ruthless tone. "Of late mornings, and laughter. Of secret sharing and dreams?" 

"No..." But she looks tempted despite herself. 

"We had a home." I say. "A cottage that was just perfect for two. You filled it with love, and you decorated it with your warmth, every single cozy touch a conscious choice of your own. You made it more than just a place to rest in between heists, you made it a home, something I hadn't had in a long time, not even on the Jolly Roger." 

"And in that home that I hadn't even known that I had been missing, in a kitchen very different from this one, you taught me a great many things." I gently tip the mixing bowl so that it's batter could pour into a pan. "Though not all the lessons I had understood until now." 

"What do you mean?" 

"It was right there in front of me. YOU were right there, showing me it was possible to move on from such bitter disappointments. You were showing me how to live, and I didn't know enough to heed it. I took the joy from you, and all too soon it was my thoughtless actions that had you crying more than any grief that you had over the crocodile. For that I AM sorry, to you and to myself, for the time wasted, the opportunities lost, and for the hurt I had done us both." 

"It's a little too late to be sorry." But it's a weary sigh she speaks with, Belle not half as stubborn and fierce as she had been a few minutes earlier. 

"That's where you're wrong." I gently chide. "It's never too late, and you're not the type to withhold your forgiveness. Especially not to a man you have given so much to." 

"I don't remember." She reminds me. 

"And maybe you'll never." I calmly reply. "But it doesn't change the heart of who you are." 

"And that's who?" Belle can't help but ask. 

"A loving, forgiving, passionate woman." I tell her with a smile. "A woman so brave, so bold, she can love and heal monsters." 

"You're not a monster...and neither is Rumple!" 

My smile widens in response. "We're both very bad men who have done some awful, terrible things. To some people a monster is very much what we both are, and yet you see past that. You not only look to the man inside, you're able to forgive, and to love..." 

"You said I didn't love you!" 

"But you were close." I let out a breath. "And closer every day. If you had stayed..." 

"But I didn't." Belle is quick to remind me. "I left you, and I left behind the chance of it becoming love." 

"And it just about killed you to do." The memory of her tears, of that sad whispered apology flicker to agonized life on my face. "You didn't want to leave....and yet you had to..." 

"It was the right thing to do..." 

"I would have kept on hurting you otherwise...." I acknowledge. "And as much as I hate to admit it, I needed you to go. Sometimes a person can't realize what they had until it was gone, and that was never more true than in the case of you and me..." 

My gaze absolutely serious, I let her see just how much I have come to understand and realize what she had meant to me. What she STILL means to me, Belle looking shaken in response. She doesn't want to believe, not in me, and not in the things I am saying, and yet there is a part of her that does a reluctant softening. Not by much, and not enough for Belle to give voice to, but it's there all the same, some grudging acknowledgement I can work with and build open. 

For the first time I feel something other than that mad desperation. Something other than the pure obsession that drives me. I look at Belle, and that shaken response, and I feel hopeful. It's an odd sensation, that feeling of hope. It brings with it a future, a chance of it and it's all I can do not to reach out and grab for it. It makes me want to believe, to trust that everything will work out, that I haven't fucked things up beyond repair. I actually hope in a way that I haven't in three hundred years, the malice of my revenge unable to touch it. 

It frees me. SHE frees me, the hope Belle sets alight in me, a powerful thing. I stop living for revenge, and start living for Belle. And it's stronger than anything Emma had made me feel, the happy ending the savior had dangled before me paling in comparison to the love I could have with the woman in front of me. I look at Belle and it's all my hopes and dreams pinned to her slender frame, the woman trembling with my salvation and she doesn't even yet know it. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

To Be Continued....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sighs* I am probably freaking hating on this chapter so much cause it gave me A LOT of difficulties. I am not a happy camper at all at this point. =/ 
> 
> Not only that, I am being tempted! Basically whenever I reread 18, my mind wanders down a potential path. Basically I am fighting the temptation to do an AU of this story. One where when Belle had left Hook, she went back to her father and their kingdom. And then hook tracks her down...I so freaking want to write that now...but I am also trying to get this story advanced out of the kitchen. Only I think I am in desperate need of a break, so I am pretty sure I am just gonna relax with my pink 3DS and play some bravely Default, rather than drive myself nuts with trying to write 20 tonight. Which I think will be a Belle POV...I THINK!!! 
> 
> Course maybe after an hour or two of gaming, I will feel better and be ready to tackle the start of 20. But right now I am feeling crabby and overwhelmed...X_X 
> 
> \---Michelle


	20. Twenty

He's so good at wreaking havoc on my heart. So good at twisting a suffocating level of emotion inside of me. I look into Hook's eyes, into the raw sincerity there that I don't want to believe is real, and I come away shaken for the experience. I'm either a greater fool for him than I had first realized, or Hook is just THAT good an actor, but either way, there's a grudging kernel that is growing inside of me. It's not a true forgiveness, and it's definitely not a total acceptance, not of him, not of the things that he claims, and even not of the feelings that spring to life in agonized detail on his face. There's a trust that I can't give him, that I won't hand over easily, my wounded heart still in pieces. He has helped do this to me, has helped break apart the woman that I had once been. And from the sound of it, Hook has had ample time to do it even more, ten whole months of pain and heartache that I was almost glad to have forgotten. 

And yet I wonder about it, about the girl I had been, the woman who had made a go at a life with the pirate. HER hopes and her dreams. How had the woman that I had once been, been so dazzled by the pirate? What had she seen in him that had brought an immensely painful longing fisting deep in her gut? That woman, her longings, her motivations, and the man that had inspired them, were all a mystery to me. I didn't see what SHE had when looking at Hook, couldn't see past the breath taking level of staggering, dark want. The jealousy and the obsession, the hurt and the pain, and the crazy amount of lust. Passion still ruled me, none of the good but all of the bad, the unhealthy desire, the anger and that wild driven urge to possess him. It had made me reckless, had left me unable to heed to danger time and time again. It has already led to my ruin, and it would be so easy to let it destroy me completely. But I fight, both it and him, and in that I find I am not that different from the Belle of the missing year. 

Both of us turn our back, turn away from the man who is responsible for so much of our hurt. I feel no better for the choice, but I can't let Hook keeping doing this. Can't let him keep twisting me up inside, confusing me to the point where I want to believe. Him, his lies, and the hope he keeps trying to dangle, and all are the sharpened tools that I've let stab me time and time again. I've been broken on it, broken by him, and there's so little of me left. I cling to what there is, to the woman whose self respect had come almost too late. From her I take strength, and bolster it further with the memory of exactly how it had made me feel when Hook had moaned out another woman's name while inside of me. 

It's a cold, quiet anger that fills me, that whips through my voice, and the steely eyed glare that I give him. "When something is gone, it's gone for good." I say out loud. 

The fight sparks to life in his sapphire gaze, Hook fixing me with a ruthless twist of his lips. It's all cold amusement that smile, Hook expressing a wolfish kind of enjoyment as he tells me that I am WRONG. He's deceptively calm, Hook leaning over the counter that stands between us. 

"Not everything stays lost." He points out with a flash of his eyes. "YOU certainly didn't." 

I won't let him have the satisfaction of my uncertainty. "Not for lack of trying!" I flippantly retort when everything inside me wants to turn away. I don't, instead leaning forward slightly, glaring at him while struggling to downplay the agitated movement of my hands on the flat counter top. "And the fact remains, if the witch hadn't cast her curse..." 

"Then it's a good thing that she did." 

"How can you say that?!" My voice is appalled, the rest of me not nearly so much. There's a part in my soul that thrills to what Hook is saying, to the feelings I imagine those words to imply. That same part doesn't care that it might be a lie, and it definitely doesn't care about the danger the curse has helped put us all in. It's probably the same as that sick kind of gratitude that Hook feels, the man smiling calmly with his retort. 

"How can I not?" Hook questions, and this time he reaches over the counter to snag hold of one of my wrists. I instantly try to wrench free, but his fingers' grip is like steel, holding me painfully in place. "When back in the Enchanted Forest you had gone to ground? I had no real hope of finding you, especially not any time soon. You didn't WANT to be found..." 

"You speak as though you are grateful to that witch!" I snap over him while still struggling to get free. He slowly blinks in response, and it's a cold, assessing look that he gives me. 

"I suppose for this much I am." Hook admits, then softens his smirk. "Oh, don't worry, love. It's not a favor I be looking to repay. The town is safe from at least that much." 

"Thank heaven for small miracles." I mutter with a hiss, still struggling against his grip. I'm actually expecting to come away with more than just some bruises, but Hook surprise me by abruptly letting go. I stumble back a step, then catch hold of the counter to steady myself. 

"Heaven has little to do with it." He tells me, with that odd twist of a smile. The expression on his face leaves his eyes filled with a hard heat, Hook having an intensity about him that has little to do with the usual lust he focuses my way. "Make no mistake love, if I thought throwing in with the witch could get me what I wanted, in any way, I'd do so in a split second." He then lets out an exaggerated sigh. "But YOU wouldn't like that, would you? You wouldn't want me to be the town's enemy...." 

"I'm not asking you to be it's hero either." I point out, and maintain my glare. It's almost shaken by the smile he gives me, Hook all too happy as he purrs. 

"Only a fool expects a pirate to play at being the hero." 

"Well yes..." I agree. "And do you know why, Hook?" I speak without waiting for him to answer the question. "Because heroes aren't just heroes because they do good things, but because they are of a self sacrificing nature. And I've never known a pirate to do anything without profiting from it first..." 

"Oh aye, you've got the measure of me and my kind." Hook nods, and he doesn't appear at all insulted. "But so long as the reward is rich and ripe enough, you can buy a pirate's loyalty." He pauses, then acknowledges with a smirk. "For a time." 

It makes me bristle in response. "I won't be your reward." I tell him. "And I won't be the prize that consoles you over your loss of Emma..." I shake my head, my vulnerability betraying me in the soft whisper with which I now speak. "I won't be your rebound. I won't!" 

He loses his glib manner, but none of that serious intent. "No, you won't." He agrees to my surprise. "I'm done with hurting you, and I am done with hurting myself over that woman. Oh but I don't blame you for not wanting to believe me. It's a deep, deep hole that I've dug for us, and it will take some real effort to get out." 

"I don't see how..." I quickly look away, appalled that my voice comes out more sad than angry with those words. It feels like such a betrayal, like my own feelings are conspiring to make a mockery of my resolve. 

I then jump in startled reaction at the feel of his hand gently covering over my own. "I'm up for the challenge." Hook quietly says, and I don't dare look at him. I can't bear what I think I will see, the lie there that I will want to believe in. 

"Well I am NOT." I say firmly, and pull my hand out from under his. I'm so tired in the moment, so bone weary exhausted, all my thoughts and my feelings a flutter and a warring. It makes for an unpleasant push and pull inside me, what I want to believe fighting against what I think I know. It's worse now that he doesn't try to antagonize me, that instead Hook just sort of sighs with a sad sort of acknowledgement. 

"I know." There's a pause, and then he turns away. I risk a quick look at his back, shocked that it might end this easily. Something inside me flinches, some part of me I don't want to give power to. It's the same part of me that thrills to Hook's determination, to his blatant disregard of my supposed wishes. It's a part that doesn't want him to go, that doesn't want Hook to give up. It makes me cry over him, over what he has and hasn't done, the feeling tightening in my chest and it's so wrong and so frustrating, my hands balling into fists. I dig my nails into the soft skin of the palm of my hand, using the pain of it to keep from voicing my inner conflict. I have to let him go, I can't keep building us both up with a false hope that Hook preys upon. 

Only he's not leaving. He's not doing much of anything, Hook just standing there. My brow furrows in puzzled response, and I do a tentative voicing of his name. 

"Hook?" 

"I can't figure it out." He mutters it softly. I make a questioning sound in return, and then catch my breath at the smile he turns to give me. It's all flirtatious charm, with no hint of the sad acknowledgment or worse yet the anticipated anger. It's as if nothing has happened, as if nothing has been decided. Only something has. Hook is still determined, still up for the challenge while I'm just so tired, and so ready for an end. That weary exhaustion surely shows, Hook smile's deepening further as he looks at me, and then lifts up the pan. 

"The crocodile's stove." Hook says, and further clarifies. "How in the blazes does it work? There's no pit for a fire, and I've yet to come across any fuel for it either." 

I find myself blinking repeatedly, near dull witted in response. "Pardon?" 

"Your breakfast." Hook states patiently, pan in hand. "How am I to go about cooking it?" 

"You still want to cook me breakfast..?" 

"Must I start a fire outside?" He counters, and THAT gets me to snap out of some of the dull haze that has taken me over. 

"No, no!" I exclaim, and find myself stepping around to the other side of the counter. "You'll break a dozen fire ordinances at least, and that's if we're lucky." Visions of the garden and the shrubbery of the yard catching fire and spreading it to the house quickly pass through my mind. It makes me shudder, makes me almost not notice that I brush against Hook's body in my haste to get to the stove. 

"There..." I say, having turned the stove's knobs. I glance at Hook and find he is looming over me, pan still in hand. But the pirate isn't looking at me so much as he is the stove. 

"There is still no fire." He complains. 

"It's electric." I retort. "Here, look..it'll be hot within a few seconds...." 

He still doesn't look like he believes, but Hook sets down the pan on one of the stove's burners. Within seconds we hear the sizzle of the batter, the heat starting to make it bubble just a little. Hook makes a sound, and proclaims it to be magic. 

I almost laugh then. "Well, I can certainly see why you would think that. But no...this marvel is not thanks to magic but to modern day technology." 

"What is the difference?" Hook wanted to know. 

"Well for one thing, everyone can use it." He makes an impressed sound behind me. "It's not as costly as magic either, though there is a price." 

"There always is." Hook mutters behind me. Do I imagine the dark undertone to his voice, or is it really there? Either way it has me shivering, cold despite the heat of the nearby stove. 

"Well you would know..." I say softly. "Being such an expert on the Dark One and his magic." 

"Not just the Dark One. If it was a weapon of some sort, you can bet I studied up on it." Hook tells me. 

"Know anything that would help against a wicked witch?" 

"I can think of several ways to defeat Zelena on her own. With the Dark One at her command, not so much." Hook admits. "I'm afraid there's only one way left to us, and that is the dagger..." 

"I doubt anyone else is getting their hands on Rumple's dagger any time soon." 

"So it would appear." A light murmur from him that has me frowning. I start to turn towards him, and find his hook touching gently on my hip. 

"Hook...." 

He smiles at me, but in a distracted manner that I don't buy for one second. "This feels a lot like the enchanted forest." Hook says in a musing tone. 

"Does it?" My tone is flat. "I don't remember." 

"I know you don't." He acknowledges. "But I do. And Belle, I remember EVERYTHING about that time. From those first days of a vagabond life, to settling down a real home, and everything that had followed, there is not a moment I want to forget." 

His eyes seem to gleam with a sincerity I find all too beguiling. It makes me want to believe in all that the pirate is saying and all that he is not. I look into that sincere blue and I want to believe the memories are something that Hook cherishes. Each and every last one of them, and I don't know how that can be. 

"Not even the moment that I left you?" 

"Not even then." The sincerity doesn't waver one bit. I find myself staring, puzzled by it, and puzzled by him. By the gleam in his eyes, the sad little flicker that isn't swallowed up whole by the heat that flares to life in his eyes. He smiles and there is an edge to that expression, some raw feeling that I can't possibly understand, and maybe I still wouldn't even if my memories of that time were to be restored. 

Troubled, I turn away. I look at the stove, at the pan on it's burner, the omelette batter having already turned a crisp golden color. "Almost ready." I say softly, aware of the pirate's hook on my hip, his warmth behind me. 

"Yes, I know." His voice holds a huskiness to it, and it's not all lust that he is expressing. "In a kitchen far different from this one...with the weight of the world and it's problems far from us..." He let out a breathe, sighing against my hair. "We stood very much like this, breakfast sizzling on the stove." 

A dozen thoughts came to mind, my own voice quiet as I spoke. "We must have burnt a lot of breakfasts that way...." 

He let out a laugh, a hoarse expression of his amusement. "We might have a few." Another chuckle. "I can still hear your laugh, the way you tried to suppress it. You'd play at exasperated, when the truth was you were just as insatiable as I was. You had melted easily against me, offering up your throat to my kisses. It was just as much your fault as mine for the breakfasts ruined." 

With a blush warming my cheeks, I shut off the stove. "I may have encouraged the behavior, but I am sure you started it...." 

"Sometimes." I scoffed in response, and Hook quickly amended his words. "Most times." I can hear the smile in his voice, my back still to him as I move the pan off the stove. "You're a difficult woman to resist and that is especially true when seeing you at your domesticated best." His fingers touched down on my hair, my eyes involuntarily closing in response to that stroke. 

"It must have been an odd sight." I say to counter the effect that he is having on me. "A princess as a house mate." 

"You never put on any airs." He retorts. "You never even had one word of complaint, though God knows you should have had plenty! You were everything but spoiled, sweetly caring, kind and hard working. You weren't anything like I had expected a princess to be..." 

"Well, I am sure you can thank Rumple for that." My demurral makes Hook go stiff with displeasure. 

"No." He says. "No, don't let him take credit for the kind of person you naturally are." His hand as well as his hook now rested on each of my hips. He pulled me in close when I tried to step away, Hook breathing in the scent of me, while softly growling in my ear. "Your service to him may have taught you the skills needed to tend to your own household, but no amount of slaving away could have changed who you are at the core. You're a woman to be valued, Belle, and that is something I don't want you to ever forget." 

But somehow I had. In my wild pursuit of him, in the way that he had made me feel, Hook had helped me to chip away at my own self worth. I had let myself be used, and I had let myself be hurt, allowing Hook liberties that I would have never let anyone else. I had let him treat me so callously, had let him use me with little more regard than a whore. I hadn't just been a replacement, I had been his consolation, the convenient choice he would never have made on his own. And I'm still second best, what with Emma so far beyond him. 

"You only say that because Emma is with Neal." 

I feel his fingers dig into my hip, Hook growling in angry response. "Damn it, Belle! Stop letting your jealousy of that woman blind you to what's right here!" 

"I"m not the one who is running blind." I retort. "Are you that scared to be alone Hook, that you would just settle?!" 

"Settle?" It's a snarl in my ear, Hook roughly spinning me around to face him. "Does this feel like I am settling?" 

His mouth crashes down on mine, all rough and wild with his agitation. There's nothing gentle or seductive about this kiss, just a wild desperate demand. He kisses me as though Hook means to brand himself on me, his lips two burning hot embers that blaze to life against my own. I feel an answering flame flicker to interested life inside me, but I fight it and him. I actively try to twist away, actually get to gasp out a no in the span of a second's freedom from his lips. And then his hand is catching at my hair, twisting a tangled grip with his fingers as Hook hauls me back for more. 

My lips tremble violently against his. It's taking all my strength to keep them together, to keep from responding so completely to his kiss. I feel his frustration, the growl against my lips. He doesn't just want me to kiss him back, Hook wants me to surrender and that is not something I can easily do. For once in my life I make him fight, make him work to earn what I have so freely given a thousand times before. I make him seduce me, my every trembling inch a small challenge that Hook takes up. 

He goes from that rough assault, to something far gentler but no less demanding. I feel the hot breath of him, feel the velvet flick of his tongue. My mouth nearly opens on a sigh, and then I jump startled to feel his teeth nip at my bottom lip. I make a sound in protest, feel him suck on that same lip he had just abused. My knees seem to knock together, and now I am grabbing at him in a desperate bid to keep my world upright. Hook knocks it over, makes my vision swim with pleasure, and I moan around the sensation of his tongue sliding inside me. 

He eats up that sound, and every small victory that I give him. I breathe harder for it, and take in the scent of aroused male. It makes my mind spin, brings me closer to forgetting all sane thought and reason. It--HE makes me wild, and I'm drunk off his kisses, and burning for more. 

With a needy moan all my own, I rub myself against the front of Hook's body. He actually flinches against me, actually fists harder my hair. The pain does nothing to bring back my senses, my lips turning wild, and now I am the one kissing him. With a desperate urgency that has me whimpering, my lips move, clinging, shivering adoration onto him. I feel the answer tremble in him, hear the breath rasp out of him as Hook turns his face to the side. Needy creature that I am, I immediately pull him back into the kiss, and it's my tongue that sips from his lips as I moan out for more. For one second I get it, and then everything comes crashing apart. 

"We can't do this." Hook says, and it's as though he has slapped me, my body flinching back in response. I immediately try to jerk back, but his arms are around me, holding me against him. I don't understand, not the words and not him, my expression twisted with my hurt and my confusion and the fading remnants of a desire I had just been feeling so keenly. 

He takes note of the look on my face, and gives me a sad kind of smile that is laced with regret. "God knows that I WANT to." I don't say a word in response, but that sullen resentment speaks plenty. "But it would be WRONG." 

A shift against me, and trembling fingers touch the side of my face. He closes his eyes, does a sharp intake of breath, then lets it out. When next Hook looks at me, he is as frustrated as he is serious, his desire just barely under control. I push him closer to the edge, with a quick nervous flick of my tongue against my lips. 

"Since when has wrong or right ever stopped you before?" I ask, my own thwarted desire a hostile, resentful thing. 

"Since we both stand to gain something greater than the immediate satisfaction that comes from sexual gratification!" He retorts. "Belle, love...I want more than just your body." 

"And you just expect me to believe that?!" I snap out in retort. "After all you have done, all you have said?!" 

"I know." A sigh follows those simple words. "I'm asking you to forgive and move past a lot...but I'll more than make it up to you. I'll make you the happiest woman in all of the realms..." 

"No." I say, and then shout it. "NO!" 

"You don't believe I can, and I don't blame you." But I can see the frustration gleaming in his eyes. "God knows I've made a mess of things, and I've done so time and time again. I've blundered and played the fool, and never once have I tried to fix things. But I'll do so now if you let me...if you don't let your own stubborn heart get in the way of US." 

It was more a wary curiosity that drove me than anything, my stubborn heart not relenting one bit. "How?" I ask him, and watch as a small strain of relief seeps into his expression. 

"I want you to come away with me, Belle." My mouth opens in response, but no sound comes out. Hook speaks into the silence, a soft entreaty. "It doesn't matter where. Neverland, some other part of this world, just so long as we leave Storybrooke behind." 

"Don't be ridiculous." I manage to say with a half hearted attempt at a laugh. "Why would we want to leave Storybrooke?" 

"Why would we want to stay?" He counters, and he's caressing my face. "Think of it love, a fresh start. Away from this town and all it's never ending troubles." 

"That last does make it tempting..." I say slowly, and certain victory creeps into his eyes. "But..." I shake my head, watch as the pleasure is dashed before me. "I couldn't just abandon the people here..." 

"You owe them nothing." 

"Some of them are my friends." I point out, and hear the exasperation sigh out of him. "And then there's my father..." 

"You can always write." He's only half joking. "Belle love, please...." 

"You don't even have a ship." I add. 

"I can always steal one." But I am shaking my head no, frowning at him. "Belle..." 

"And what about Rumple?" I ask, and that makes him scowl. 

"The crocodile's magic won't be able to touch us once we are past Stroybrooke's boundaries." 

"That's not what I am concerned with." I say with a sigh. It earns me a glare from Hook, the man hostile as he speaks. 

"You're not still believing he won't hurt you?! Belle, if he finds out the truth about us..." 

"IF he finds out? You mean WHEN." His hand goes still on my cheek, Hook staring at me. "It's going to happen. And it won't be because I ran off like a coward in the night. I owe that much to him...that much and more..." 

Hook looks livid in response, and it's clear he's struggling with his temper, with what to focus on next. I don't give him time to ask questions, I step back and away from him, hugging my arms around me. 

"It's something I should have already done..." I say. "And I would have if not for the threat of Zelena." I shiver then, remembering the moment Rumple's eyes had given over to the darkness inside him. 

"It's not the witch you should be worried about, it's the bloody Dark One!" Hook growls. 

"I DO worry." I tell him. "I worry how vulnerable this betrayal will make him. Zelena already has such a hold on him, how much worst would things get if Rumple stopped resisting her commands?! Hook..." I just barely keep myself from approaching the pirate. "You saw him at the witch's house. You saw how he moved, how he fought against her commands. How many people would have died that day, otherwise?" 

"I don't care about that!" Hook is barely leashed aggression. "I don't care about anyone in this town but YOU!" 

"And that's a problem!" I shout. "You don't care where as I care too much! About the town, about it's people, about my friends and my father, and most of all about Rumplestiltskin. So no Hook, I won't run away with you. Not now....not ever." 

"Belle!" It's an angry bark of my name, Hook stepping towards me. I stare him down, but it's not fear that makes me shake. It's my stubborn heart, and my determination to do what is needed. For the good of the town, for the good of Rumple, and maybe just maybe for the good of me. 

\---------------------------------------------- 

To Be Continued....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a really hard time with this chapter. For the most part I only like my opening three paragraphs. Maybe after some time has passed, I'll feel better about this one. Also, I had a really hard time with the part right after the sentence where "It all breaks apart." I took out and put back those paragraphs that followed like eight or nine times at the very least, before deciding to just leave them there for better or for worse. 
> 
> I am glad I got in the whole come away with me, you don't have a ship little moment. Though it didn't happen exactly how I had originally wanted it to. ^^'' 
> 
> I would actually like to spend some time trying to update something else, but well see. Next chapter feels like it should be a Hook POV and I am determined to time skip it slightly, so that they are out of the kitchen, and actually in the shop trying to do research. (Key word trying! XD) Ideally I would like the pawn shop stuff to be just one chapter, and then advance the story some how to the duel between Zelena and Regina. 
> 
> Laters! 
> 
> \---Michelle


	21. Twenty One

She's a trembling Goddess made real, Belle a defiant beauty that shakes not so much with fear, but with that stubborn determination of hers. Her eyes practically spark with it, the blue so bright and alive with that often times admirable trait. It doesn't waver one bit, not even in the face of my own displeasure, the scowl across my lips, the angered glare of my eyes. My expression is one equal to hers, but one borne of pure rage, and I don't know whether to cross the distance to her or remain where I stand. Neither choice seems palpable, the anger inside me leaving me prone to say something damning, or worse yet, have me shaking her in attempt to force Belle to finally see the sense of what I say and suggest. 

I actually have to bite down on my tongue, gnash my teeth together in an effort to hold back the frustrated words that want to come out. I don't trust what I'll say, what I'll do, the anger and desperation inside me so different from the elation I had been feeling just a handful of minutes earlier. Back when she had started to kiss me back, when Belle had clutched at me and rubbed the front of her body against mine. Back then she hadn't been defiant, hadn't been thinking of the good of the town, or of sparing Rumplestiltskin the worst of his hurt feelings. She had been all about me, about US, Belle kissing me wildly, passionately, and she had been the one who hadn't wanted to stop. 

I hadn't much wanted to either, truth be told. I would have gladly taken her right there, on the counter, or on the floor, but for once I had been trying to be noble. To be something other than the pirate who only used her for his own lustful gains. I had in fact been attempting to show Belle I wanted more than just her body. I wanted her. Her soul, her happiness, and though I hadn't dared voice it loud, I was wanting her heart as well. Unworthy of it though I am, I wanted Belle to love me, to need me, to look at me as though I was becoming everything to her. I was in fact chasing after the Belle of the lost year, the woman who she doesn't remember being, the lover I had so unwittingly tortured with my cruel insistence at pining away for a woman who hadn't wanted me. Who had never wanted me. 

But now I knew and accepted that what I wanted was Belle. I wanted the woman she once was, and could be again. I wanted her to be better than that, I wanted her to be free of the sadness and the pain I had continually caused her. I wanted a Belle who wouldn't be driven to leave me, a woman I wouldn't keep on hurting but only because now I know better. I wanted another chance at our life together, at being happy for once. How ironic was it, that now that my eyes have been opened, Belle was intent on turning her back on me? Not that I'll let her. She'll have a fight on her hands, and I'll use just about any means fair or foul to win her. With that thought, I give her a tightlipped smile that's more grimace than anything. She reacts with a wary kind of hesitation, Belle so clearly unable to ascertain what I am on about now. That suits me just fine, what I am already intending to do a secret best kept to the dark. 

My secret scheming in the back of my mind, I am wondering just how quickly my man William Smee can be found. There's others that will be needed, but Smee is the most essential, the man a magic about him that lets him find anything or anyone that is needed. With Smee onboard, it won't take long to get the rest of my crew together for one last misdeed in Storybrooke. That Belle won't like this one bit doesn't concern me. She has no real choice in the matter, not where her life is concerned. I'm going to save her, even if it's from her own foolish self. 

My true thoughts can't possible be betrayed this easily, and yet Belle speaks as though she has an inkling of what I am thinking about. "I won't be another Mila." 

There's more than one way to interpret that statement, anything from Belle saying she won't be mine, to implying she won't repeat the same mistakes that Rumplestiltskin's wife had once made with him. "I won't die." She clarifies. "Rumple won't hurt me." 

The not yet healed cut over her eye speaks otherwise on that, my own brow arching in a silent and mocking manner. The aroused color had never truly faded from her skin, but now Belle's cheeks bloomed even darker with her blush. "That was while under Zelena's command of the dagger! He'd...he'd never..." 

Was that the tiniest bit of uncertainty I heard in her voice? My smile became less like a grimace and more like a smirk. I leaned back against a counter, still not saying anything. We simply saw the man, the monster, from two different sides. I saw him at his worst, and Belle at his best, or what he had pretended at being. I knew the coward and the monster, and that insane jealousy that had led him to kill a woman that he had supposedly loved, a woman who had been the mother of his only child. What chance did Belle stand under circumstances that were so similar and yet not? She had betrayed his love, with the very same man that his wife had once turned to. Sooner or later Belle would have to realize how bad that would make her look in Rumplestiltskin's eyes. But I'd get her away before he could kill her, before he could come close to even considering it. 

I didn't say any of this out loud. She wouldn't have wanted to hear it, and my words would have only led Belle to be that more determined to walk head first into danger. That stubborn determination of hers is both a blessing and a curse, something to be both admired and annoyed by. She'd be a different woman without it, and yet I didn't want to change a thing about her, other than her blind faith in Rumplestiltskin. 

Wishing I could free her of that faith in him, my hands were thus tied in what I had to actually do. I didn't like it, but neither was I that against the idea. In time, of which there would be plenty, Belle would get over what I had done. She would HAVE To. She's too different from me, too incapable of holding a grudge for that long. 

Spiriting Belle away to safety wasn't the only plan I had in the back of my mind. But it seemed the only one that would come close to bearing any chance of succeeding. I thought of the dagger, and of the witch's house, the darkness having sealed off the property. There'd be no going back there, no getting my hand on the dagger that way. I nearly sighed out loud with my disappointment, thinking it a pity, the lost opportunity of that dagger. 

Belle for her part, doesn't seem to realize just where my thoughts have gone. She is too busy fidgeting in place, fighting her own feeble beginnings of uncertainty. I find it interesting that the more I don't say anything, the more defensive she becomes. Almost like she is filling in the blanks in her head with what Belle thinks I could have said. She might have even stood there just short of forever, trying to justify herself to the imagined words in her head, but then her stomach growled quite loudly. She blushed further in response, lifted her chin up stubbornly, even as I scowled at her. 

"Will you sit down already and eat the breakfast that I made for you?!" It came out gruff, but I was exasperated with her. She had after all not eaten since early yesterday, and this kind of continued neglect of her physical well being would not do. 

She moves when I take a step towards her, an odd mix of defiant but meek as Belle takes a seat at the table. I fetch the pan, flip the omelette out onto a plate, and set the meal down rather roughly in front of her. She actually startled in place at the loud clang of the plate hitting the table, Belle's mouth opening to say something, but then the woman thought better of it. Instead of speaking, she reached for a fork, and then began poking at the omelette. She had seen me prepare it, and yet Belle didn't seem to trust that it was edible. She was in for a culinary surprise, her eyes widening at the first small bite she reluctantly took. 

"It's good!" She exclaimed, and her second bite was a much larger one. I took a seat across from her at the table, my amused smile without malice or any tension to it. 

"Enjoy it." I say. "This is one of the rare few times where we HAVEN'T burnt breakfast." 

She quickly looks down at her plate, Belle's blush becoming more pronounced in color. I get the feeling she is remembering what I had said earlier, how I had spoke of us burning breakfast, and the reason behind it. I grin wider at that, staring at her, and if I had been sitting closer to her, I would have reached out to her. Burning breakfast wasn't the only way to disrupt a meal, and more than once had I spread Belle out on the table, and taken her in place of the food. It's on the tip of my tongue to say, to spill in vivid details all the time I had laid her out on the table, and feasted to my heart's content. The image forms in my mind, Belle drugged out on the pleasure of my tongue, past the point of any protests, as I had my way with her. 

Suddenly I am the one feeling heated, though my flustered state hasn't anything to do with the embarrassment Belle might be feeling. I curl my fingers on the table's top, and shift about in my seat as my pants grow a tad too tight. It doesn't help that I stare at her mouth, at lips that are still swollen from that mad display of angry passion earlier. I fight the growl that wants to come out, that grows worse at seeing her lick nervously over them. 

"Stop it." She says it quietly. I don't try to play dumb or deny my reaction to her, but neither do I apologize. Instead I take a long drink of cold water from one of the glasses on the table, hoping the cool liquid will quench some of my internal fire. It's easy to say the words, to tell her I want more from her than just her body, but it's a lot harder to actually make good on proving that. Especially now, sitting at this table, eating a breakfast that I had made for her. It felt intimate, maybe even more so than all the times I had fucked her in Storybrooke, this bit of domesticity and the past night I had just spent with her, so much more like the life we had lost back in the Enchanted Forest. 

"I've really made a mess of things." I say it out loud, but mutter it without intending for her to understand. She pauses, then glances up at me. She waits a beat and then Belle resumes eating once it becomes apparent I wasn't about to repeat what I had just muttered. It's not the cold drink that cools my lust, but my acknowledging how much I have fucked things up. I bite into my own omelette, the act of eating more a show of hiding from Belle my grimace as I work things out in my head. I keep thinking on how I have treated her, how I had used Belle once she and the others had awakened back in Storybrooke. I hadn't once approached her as though we had shared anything meaningful during the year that was lost. Instead I had bore down on her with all my anger and my hurt, running roughshod over her heart in retaliation for Belle having left me. I had both wanted to punish her and hadn't been able to stay away, taking advantage of the fact Belle didn't remember, didn't know anything of the past year. Not the time spent together, and certainly not of her leaving. 

I had felt abandoned, rejected. I had also been feeling hurt and betrayed, and had seized on the opportunity the witch's curse had given me. Belle writhing beneath me once again, even as I had so callously chased after the fool's dream that was Emma Swan. I had used the savior, her cold hearted indifference, as an excuse, using Emma's rejection to seek out solace inside Belle's body time and time again. And yet it was never enough, not so long as Belle didn't remember, and couldn't be made sorry for what she had done. I had been in fact frustrated by both women, so twisted up inside, sure Emma was my happiness, but torn apart by the memories of that time spent with Belle in the Enchanted Forest. I was in fact trying to deny the happiness Belle and I could have had, that we SHOULD and WOULD have had if not for my obsession with a woman that was lost. A woman who had always been lost to me. 

It's the ultimate in ironic, that I've let THAT woman help damage my true chance at happiness. I inwardly flinch as I bring to mind Belle's hurt and pain, the way she had screamed and revealed to me that I had said Emma's name in the heat of a passionate moment. I can't even truly explain it away, so twisted in knots had I been about both women, that my pain and frustration at being passed over by both, had let my subconscious strike out in the only way I knew that would be guaranteed to hurt Belle hardest. Angry with both women, I had lashed out, and Belle had borne the brunt of my fury. It had been one blow too many, the tattered remains of my relationship with Belle left floundering, and now I am the one desperately trying to put back the pieces. 

It should reek of hopelessness. And yet, hope is exactly what I have. Because Belle did eventually kiss me back. Did more than just that, she had actively thrown herself into the act, had seem visibly disappointed, even hurt when I had pulled back. It had physically hurt me to stop, but any discomfort I had been feeling, was lost to the elation and smug triumph of her response. So high had I been riding by her reactions, my hope had built to bursting, the words rushing out of me as I had asked Belle to run away with me. That she had turned me down did not matter. Anymore than than it mattered that I won't be asking again. I won't ever be asking, not when it comes down to doing what's best for her, and it is all the better that it benefits me in the long run too. In that way I haven't changed one bit, still the pirate, still greedy and self serving. 

There's not a twinge of true remorse in me for the pirate that I am, or for what I will ultimately do. I certainly don't give a damn about what happens to this town, to the people we will be leaving behind. That Belle will doesn't deter me. She can cry and protest all that she likes, but with enough time passing, Belle will eventually get over it. She might even become grateful for it, the woman free of the town and the responsibilities it's people have set on her shoulders time and time again. Even now she bears the burden, Belle making quick work of breakfast so she can hurry back to the shop, and continue her attempts at research. I follow her there, make a half hearted show of paging through a heavy tome, but my thoughts are elsewhere. 

I wonder how she'll like Neverland, and wonder at the changes that have surely been wrought there now that it is free of Peter Pan's evil influence. Will the waters be any calmer, will the place still retain it's deathly beauty? Most of all I wonder how much time will be needed? Ten years, fifty, even a hundred? But there's no way of knowing until we are actually there. I almost laugh then, and disguise it with a cough. Belle casts a suspicious glance my way, but I merely shrug at her in response. In my head, the spurt of amusement remains, for never had I thought I'd be eager to return to that foul realm! But that's exactly what I am, and a part of me shifts with impatience. I want it done, I want us gone from this town already. Only then when Belle is safe and secured, can our new life together truly begin. 

I'm all but itching for it, for the chance to set our future in motion. I need to find Smee, and to make the arrangements. But I'm not entirely comfortable with leaving Belle all on her own, even if it's just for an hour or so. It's not all to do with the paranoia over what the witch might choose to do, but the memory of our past. The memory of the night that Belle had left me. Then too had I gone off with Smee and the others of my crew, on a heist meant to be the crowning achievement of our land bound careers. It hadn't been a kingdom's weight in gold and silver, but it had been close, enough coin that would have seen us all comfortable for the rest of our lives in the Enchanted Forest. Such a bounty was not without it's immense risks, but somehow with a mix of luck and careful planning, we had managed. 

I can't smile for the memory though. Even as I recall the way the four guards had panicked, the way the fire lighting up the forest path had made them fear, the men thinking there was dozens upon dozens of bandits surrounding them. The way they had turned coward and ran, and the fortune they had left behind, even that can't bring a smile to my face for I remember what would happen next. The early hours of the morning, when I and my crew came creeping back to the cottage. I had been riding on a high, more than a little drunk on celebratory rum. Smee and the rest of my crew was in no better shape, uproarious laughter and drunken chatter preceding our arrival. It should have been enough to wake the dead, and yet the cottage didn't so much as stir, not a single light appearing in any of it's windows. 

Drunk as I had been, I hadn't spared a thought to think anything strange was a foot. The cottage had looked fine if dark, not a thing out of place in the early twilights where night had not yet given to daybreak. There was even a meal set out for us, fresh drink and cold stew. There was no sign of Belle, not even a single peep from her, and I hadn't been sober enough to wonder just why. I guess I just assumed she had been deep asleep in our bed, but really, nothing short of a sleeping curse could have slept through the noise me and my men were making. It wasn't just the laughter, and excited celebratory whoops, the loud chatter. It was the transporting of our haul, the many heavy chests that clinked and clanked with the sound of their coins and jewels. We'd labor for what felt like hours, the chests being brought in and divided among us. The chests needed to be emptied, needed to be returned to the carriage we had stolen along with the gold. It and the carriage needed to be disposed of, the royal horses needed to be set free. All to better throw off our trail any guards that might come looking. 

Most of the silver and gold, and especially that of the jewels, would have to be bartered away. Exchanged for the less inconspicuous copper that was the main currency of most in the kingdoms. But that process could wait a day or two, my men and I having done more than enough this night to secure our fortunes and our futures. Life it seemed, would be good, comfortable, and dare I say maybe even happy. I had no idea of the rude awakening I was in for, the shock and the fear that would soon follow the sun's rising. My men were off eating, or in Smee's case, even sleeping as I went upstairs. A sapphire and silver necklace was clutched in my hand, the pretty jewels in their settings soon slated to be pried out and individually sold. But for the moment, it had remained intact, along with a pressing need inside me to see the pretty necklace around Belle's neck. 

A not quite song muttered under my breath, I entered the room, expecting to find Belle asleep in our bed. I hadn't immediately turned frantic, not until I had felt the cold sheets that signified the bed had been empty for a lot longer than a few minutes. It was then that I had registered the sound, or rather the lack of it, no slosh of water that could mean Belle was bathing. I had still burst into the bathroom, still hoped that she would be there, brushing her hair, or in the middle of getting dressed. But she hadn't been there, and with a roar that woke up even Smee, I had screamed out her name, desperate to find her. 

I am told Smee actually fell to the floor at the sound of my shout. Several of my crew had also startled, drawing their swords and daggers, until a small armed crowd was standing just outside the bedroom's second floor landing. They had come prepared for an attack of some kind, but were left wide eyed at the sight of me tearing about the room. All of Belle's things were still there save for a dress or two. I should have known then what that had meant, but I hadn't wanted to believe. Better she be kidnapped and held ransom, then the thought of her just up and leaving me! 

No note ever came, no ransom was ever demanded, and eventually I was forced to face the truth of what must have happened. She had left me, and I hadn't been able to truly understand it. Nor had I been able to let go, to let HER go, spending a small fortune on any information that could be had, real or otherwise. I was alternately desperate and furious, wanting to find her, wanting to throttle her, wanting to love on her. I had wanted answers, I had wanted understanding, and most of all, I had wanted HER. For two months time I would search, and for two months time I had been thwarted. As though Belle had cast some sort of spell that had kept her from being found, the woman gone to ground, and not even the shadiest and most magical of my associates cold uproot her whereabouts, not even Smee! 

For two months time I had lived a hell of my own making, a maelstrom of misery and agony, my anger only growing, my lack of understanding only fueling the fire in me. The fury that beat inside me was determined to find her, to drag Belle back into my life, and keep her there. I know now that Belle had been right to leave me as she had, that it had been the only way to end the madness, the hurt and the pain. She had effectively cut the poison out of her life, and left me spat on the ground where I might have belonged. 

Not that I stayed there. Lick a sickness that festers, I rose, ready to find her and start the cycle of misery all over again. I was a man obsessed but in the worst way, MY hurt and MY anger all coalescing into a lust and a rage, that had boiled over the instant I had first found her. The setting may have changed, the people might not have remembered, but I had no such problem. I was both blessed and cursed to remember everything, to remember her, to remember the life I had been living with Belle, and the many ways she had made me feel. With those memories and feelings and temper guiding me, I had set out to hurt her, to make Belle pay for leaving me. I was little more than a hurt boy lashing out, unable to understand, unable to truly fathom all the whys of what she had done. And with her memory gone, Belle hadn't been able to tell me, to explain to me her reasons. To justify her abrupt leaving. 

I had blinded myself to her reasons, to the pain that her been reflected in her eyes those last few months that we had spent together. It was a pain that had only grown, Belle hurting and so close to being in love with me, and I had trampled her heart in the process, not once, not twice, but a million times over. I can't help but shudder at what she would think of me if Belle were to remember everything. How much more she might hate me. As bad as I had been in the Enchanted Forest, here in Storybrooke I had been WORSE. 

I have much to atone for. A lesser man might wilt in defeat, but then I've been a pirate who has quested for some three hundred years, letting hate and revenge fuel me. Something different, gentler, but no less powerful is inside me now, my eyes open and seeing the true path to my---to OUR happiness. My determination won't let me fail, won't let anyone, even Belle stop me from securing our future. This time we'll be happy, I'll make sure of it. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To Be Continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably gonna be a long and rambly author's note. First I guess I should say I struggled on and off for all of August trying to get this chapter written. I got to 14 KB and then just stalled...I think I also had an opening draft that I ended up trashing before you got what you just read. Then the last week of august I got like another 2 KB written, bringing it up to 16 KB...and then I forced myself to write something today (September 1st)but I am not exactly happy with anything after the 16 KB mark. =/ 
> 
> I also wonder if I should even post this. Just cause I am not wanting to get you all excited that I updated this fic. What I mean is I am still in this weird writing limbo, and just bouncing around from story to story, until I get into the writing vibe. It also doesn't help that THIS story, I am at a point which I have to segue or bridge from point a to point B, and while I know what I want to do, and intend to do for the REST of this fic, it's this part that is being hard, being incredibly difficult to get right. 
> 
> This chapter is not how I envisioned it would be. I originally thought it would be a time skip to them in rumple's shop doing research, when Snow and Charming arrive. I thought they would interrupt a moment, and Charming would drag Hook out, and tell him to leave Belle alone. and Hook would take off to find Smee....this might happen still in 22 or 23...but right now it didn't. Basically when I read 20, I realized Hook was a little too furious at Belle's turn down of his sail away scheme, so I felt like I had to address some things. I hope I did a good job, but I am feeling so BLAH about my attempts. 
> 
> I got stubborn with this chapter and refused to work on anything else until I could get it finished. I am so eager to get to certain things not yet revealed in this fic. The plans I have! Frankly I wouldn't be shocked if this story hit the 50 chapters mark or more! But we'll see how long it takes me to churn out the twenty second chapter....@_@ 
> 
> Laters, and enjoy the weekend! 
> 
> \---Michelle


End file.
